


I Am the Other

by Scoobee



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft (Comics), World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Pre-World of Warcraft: Shadowlands, Reader-Insert, Shadowlands (Warcraft), World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoobee/pseuds/Scoobee
Summary: Y/N, Anduin's younger sister and Princess of Stormwind, is captured by Nathanos Blightcaller and rest of the Horde party that escapes the city during "The Stormwind Extraction" in the beginning of Battle for Azeroth. She is taken to Zuldazar, and must fight not only for her freedom, but for the good of the Alliance while in the clutches of the Horde's newest allies. This story is going to be a reader-insert set during BfA and possibly into Shadowlands, coinciding with actual events of the expansions, with a few of my own added in.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Smoke Rising

“You are not allowed to leave the Keep tonight, Y/N. King Wrynn has specifically asked that you remain inside while the Guard investigates a breakout from the Stockades.”

_King Wrynn my ass_. I rolled my eyes. Officer Brady was a good man, but sometimes he needed to just let loose a bit. 

“Well, if _he_ gets to go out and about while there’s a breakout, then I think I’ll take myself out on a little stroll as well,” I explained as I turned to head down the Keep stairs. Brady reached out and grabbed my arm, gently reminding me of his promise to the King. 

“Y/N. I mean no disrespect, but you know why he can be out there right now. He has at least 5 royal guards with him patrolling the city. And whoever is breaking out of the Stockades is likely going to make a break for it, not pick a fight with the High King himself. We do not have the men to spare to protect you for an evening constitutional.” 

I wrenched my arm out of his grasp and kept walking, forcing Brady to keep up with me. 

“Brady, I agree with you. Whoever is trying to break out isn’t gonna try to stop and fight their way out. They’re gonna sneak as best they can to the docks, and then stowaway on a boat. They’re not gonna be paying any attention to little ol’ me, with my hood pulled up, and a single guard next to me. It’ll look like a guard is walking an old lady home, not the princess of Stormwind.” I kept walking, but Brady’s steps stopped echoing my own. I stopped and turned around from the base of the stairs.

“Who’s gonna go out and be walking with you? I already told you, we don’t have the men to spa—,” I gave Brady a bored look. 

“Oh. You mean me.” I nodded once to Brady, and turned back around. His footsteps caught back up to mine. We made our way out of the Keep, my hood covering my face as promised. I turned right, heading into Dwarven District. The smoke from the forges billowed up in huge clouds into the night sky, making the deep blue even darker. Even at this time of night, and even with a breakout from the Stockades in progress, Dwarven District was still pretty alive, save for a few dark shop windows every so often. I felt bolstered by all of the activity, hoping Brady would see that not everyone was afraid of what was going on tonight. 

I kept in front of Brady, trying my best to make it look like I was keeping close while using the crowds of Dwarves and narrow streets to put distance between us. I liked Brady, but sometimes all I wanted was a quiet walk through the city alone. Completely alone, not being able to turn in any direction and see either a Stormwind City Guard or an obviously undercover SI:7 agent keeping their eye on me. Marching out of the Keep was kind of a bold move for me, and the fact that I convinced Brady to go along with it was exciting. Maybe next time I could work my way up to an unsupervised walk. 

Not hearing the heavy clink of Brady’s plate greaves behind me, I chanced a look over my shoulder. Sure enough, the officer was caught between two dwarves arguing over an anvil. Brady was searching in the crowd for me, trying to shove his way through. I made a break for it. Keeping my hood close to my face, I walked as quickly as I could until I was out of Brady’s line of sight. I made it to the tunnel connecting Dwarven District and Cathedral Square, slowing my pace now that I knew Brady would be caught up for a bit. 

I admired the grand Cathedral to my right, how it loomed over the city. In a way, it reminded me of Anduin. A bright spot for his people. That’s what I believed, at least. But many others, who didn’t feel as connected to their King, viewed him as useless. An empty church, purely for display. I remember hearing these laments from some citizens in Goldshire a few months prior. They commended my father for his sacrifice on the Broken Shore, and quickly assumed Anduin would never be able to do such a thing. I almost defended him that day.

Hearing footsteps approaching quickly to my left, I hid behind the large oak tree in the center of the square. Brady had caught up to me fast, and I wasn’t done having my alone time. Peeking around the trunk, I watched the tunnel that connected Cathedral Square to Trade District, and waited. I heard the steps get closer, but there seemed to be even more of them now. None of them plate. And while I heard clear steps, there was no one there. I knew I was near the catacombs, but since when did ghosts make so much noise?

The group of footsteps stopped suddenly, as if I caught their owners even when I couldn’t see anything. Feeling caught myself, I rushed to get better cover behind the large fountain in the center of the square. I kept my hood close to my face, knowing that whoever was on the other side of the fountain was aware of my presence. I needed a way out and fast; the hidden figures in the empty Cathedral Square wouldn’t let me stay here for long. 

I looked around at my options. The Cathedral’s large wooden doors were still open, but running up the stairs would remove the protection I had from the fountain. To my left, the tunnel leading to Lion’s Rest was open, and to my right, the tunnel back to Dwarven District where I came from was available. The latter would make me have to run too close to whoever was hidden, so I removed it from consideration. To Lion’s Rest it was. It was still a bit of a ways away, and running would catch my hidden enemy’s attention straight away. I needed a distraction. What if they saw me run in a different direction?  
I readied a Mirror Image of myself, and made her crouch down beside me by the fountain. I pointed to the Dwarven District tunnel, opposite of my true path, and then got myself ready to run the other way. On the count of three, I told her to go. My Image stood up, somewhat robotically, and made a break for the tunnel to our right. She was just about to reach the edge of the entrance when an arrow whizzed through her, and my Image wavered away. I peeked around the other side of the fountain. My hidden enemy revealed themself. I began to panic as I realized it was hidden _enemies_. And I just missed the window my Image had made for me to escape. 

About 20 yards away, on the other side of the fountain, a small Horde party emerged from a stealth shield. I spotted two large trolls, wearing glamorous gold armor and cloth, a smaller troll in normal Horde regalia, and a Nightborne elf holding a large purple staff. I barely processed another figure in the party before an arrow came speeding directly at my face. 

I stood and arcane exploded as quickly as I could, the magic making the arrow explode as well, the force knocking me off balance. I lost the cover of the fountain when I stood, but the sound of the explosion likely alerted nearby Stormwind guards to the Horde’s incursion. I just needed to stay alive until help arrived. 

That didn’t prove to be an easy job. Even as I heard the alarm sound from city guards nearby, I knew keeping on my feet until they reached me would be near impossible with the Horde party in my sights. I stumbled into the wider cobblestone street, readying myself for a fight. I finally could see the last member of the party. As I readied an Ice Barrier, I studied the owner of the arrow that nearly blew me up. 

Even from where I stood, I could see his red eyes bearing into me. They contrasted heavily from his ashen skin and black hair. I had only ever heard about him in reports from Shaw and Anduin, but never thought I’d come across him in the flesh. Nathanos Blightcaller stood strong and confident—arrogant, rather—across the square, another arrow nocked to fire at me, while his fellow Horde members readied their own weapons. 

“Is that Proudmoore?” I barely heard the smaller troll ask. Good. They couldn’t fully see who I was. 

“No, Chieftain, Proudmoore would make more of a grand entrance for herself,” Blightcaller snarked, making his response loud enough for me to hear. Now that I had made myself known, my plan unfortunately stopped there. I tried to listen for the Stormwind guards getting closer, but heard nothing. The leaves in the trees above waved, but there wasn’t a breeze. That was strange. 

Looking up at the tree, even for a split second, proved to be a mistake. Blightcaller released his arrow right as I was distracted, and I looked back a moment too late to explode it. I did my best to get out of its way, turning my body to the side in hopes to dodge it. The arrow managed to rip across my side, not doing any serious damage, but causing enough pain for me to bend over slightly in pain. 

The Horde party advanced. They likely were trying to escape to the docks through Lion’s Rest, and I was the only thing standing in their way. The smaller troll tackled me to the ground, my body connecting with the solid cobblestone with a pained grunt. He pinned my arms down with his strong legs, holding an axe to my neck. I felt my hood slip off of my face. I stretched my head away from his weapon as far as I could, trying not to hyperventilate in fear, and looked to the Dwarven District tunnel. 

To my surprise, help was arriving. I heard plate greaves stomping through the tunnel. Officer Brady barely materialized out of the tunnel when he stopped in his tracks and saw the scene in Cathedral Square unfolding. 5 Horde soldiers surrounding little ol’ me. His worst fear imagined. He unconsciously called out my name, pulling his alarm whistle to his mouth and blowing with all his might. This caught the Horde’s attention. 

Brady was just about to blow an alarm a second time when I saw an arrow pierce his throat, the whistle’s sound cut off forever. I flinched in fear, gasping as I watched Brady’s body hit the ground. I needed to get free, and I needed to _now_.

While the troll was still looking at Brady, I used a freeze charm on my hands. I bent my wrists as far as I could and grabbed whatever part of him was neareast, and held on tight. The cold seeped through his armor quickly, the troll yelping in shock at the sudden change in temperature, and at the burn of the ice against his skin. He rocked back just enough for me to free an arm, which I used to force his axe to clatter across the stone with a disarming spell. I squirmed out from under him, trying to stand when the Nightborne incapacitated me with a spell. I was frozen in an upright position, unable to move any part of me under the elf’s influence. 

“Now is our chance, Blightcalla’. We have tah get movin’!” The large troll woman exclaimed as the Horde party loomed over my helpless form. Blightcaller stalked over to me and lifted me up by the collar like I weighed nothing before replying.

“Now Princess, we have a bit more time to spare. We have leverage now,” he drawled, his hot breath hitting my frozen face. The Nightborne dropped her spell, and I regained movement in my limbs. I promptly tried to pull away from Blightcaller’s grasp, but he pulled me in even closer.

“She will only slow us down! Wrynn or Greymane will find us any minute now. The docks are not far, but we will never make it with extra civilian cargo,” the elf pleaded, looking at the undead man holding me. Blightcaller only smirked at this. My stomach dropped at his reaction, and I think the dread showed in my face. 

“You’re only partially correct, Thalyssra. I believe Wrynn already has found us.” With his free hand, Blightcaller ripped my cloak completely off of me while he looked me dead in the eye. Under my cloak, I wore simple cloth armor. Just like any other mage. Unfortunately, Blightcaller paid attention to the details. He turned and wrenched me in front of the group, showing off my armor. I watched as the Horde members noticed the royal seals that were hidden on my armor, one on each wrist, and a small one in the middle of my chest. Blightcaller grabbed my chin roughly, then showed my face off to the rest of the group as well.

“Can’t you see some resemblance? That same wild look in her eye that her father had. Anduin must have gotten all the softer, more _civilized_ parts of their father.” Blightcaller seemed to spit the last part out, wanting me to be offended by it. I threw my elbow back into his gut as hard as I could in response, barely making a dent as the undead man cackled. I was only proving him right. 

The smaller troll looked like he was about to ask a question when the leaves in the tree moved again. My eyes widened as several worgen launched from the branches, howling as they attacked. Thalyssra, as Blightcaller had called her, threw up a giant arcane barrier in no time, making the worgen bounce off and mewl in pain. From the Trade District tunnel, a low voice called out.

“I found them, my king! I will bring you their hides as a trophy!” Genn Greymane shouted as he and 10 more worgen sprinted towards the Horde party. The worgen soldiers launched themselves again and again at Thalyssra’s barrier, each attack making the magic waver more and more. I tried to call out to Greymane, but as soon as the words formed, Blightcaller crushed my throat with a single hand. He pulled my back up against his chest and whispered to me, just audible above the battle.

“If you make this any more difficult, I will make you bleed out all over your precious Stormwind streets. You will stick close to us and do as I say, or I will not hesitate to end your life. I can smell your fear, _Princess_ Wrynn.” His breath melted into my ear, but I knew not to pull away this time. From what I had heard, Blightcaller was known for his cruelty. Having a civilian as leverage was dangerous enough, but having the Princess of Stormwind in his hands was sure to make Blightcaller feel heady with control. I hated that I had to give it to him.

Greymane seemed to have noticed this interaction across the battle, his wolf ears lowering just slightly in fear before shooting up in alert again. I knew he didn’t want Blightcaller to know he had the upper hand either. 

But even when given an inch, Blightcaller took a mile. He laughed again, loud enough for Greymane to hear him as well. 

“I was wondering when you would show up, mutt! I’ve been looking to make a new rug, and your hide will do nicely!” Blightcaller taunted, keeping me close to his solid chest.

“Leave the girl and go, you mongrel! I tire of you and your sick games!” Greymane roared back. He called his worgen off, and they created a semicircle surrounding Thalyssra’s fading barrier.

“Oh, you would let us go for _her_? She’s that important to you, is she? Well that just makes me want her more!” With that, Blightcaller wrapped his free arm low around my waist. Revolted, I tried to jerk away, but he bit my ear gently in warning, and pushed down on the scrape his arrow had made earlier on my side. My eyes welled up in pain. 

“It's okay, Genn. It’s okay. Just let us go. He won’t win. Just let us go this time,” I pleaded through tears. Greymane’s ears drooped again at my plea, and he ordered his worgen to fully stand down. The Horde party took their chance, escaping through the tunnel leading to Lion’s Rest and the docks, Blightcaller pulling me along. I had to really sprint to keep up, not wanting to take a chance on Blightcaller’s offer to stain the streets with my blood. 

We made it all the way down the stone steps that led to the docks when shards of ice began to rain down on us. Jaina.

Our party kept running to escape the range of the blizzard, making it to the wooden docks, where an inconspicuous merchant ship was waiting, the only ship present. A large wall of ice appeared in front of us, blocking our path. I prayed to the Light that Jaina would stop them. Speaking of the Light, where was Anduin?

“That is far enough, Horde scum!” Jaina Proudmoore bellowed from where the stone met the wood planks. Blightcaller turned around to face her, along with the rest of the party. Her hood was pulled almost completely over her eyes, but I could see a long white braid of hair snaking over her shoulder. 

“Now, now my Lady! Those are not words a diplomat should be using! Especially not in front of royalty!” Blightcaller jeered across, bringing me in front of him again. Although I couldn’t see her eyes, I noticed Jaina’s grip on her staff tighten as I was pulled into view. I wouldn’t let Blightcaller have the satisfaction of getting a rise out of Jaina as he got with Genn.

“Just let us go, Jaina! He just wants to get a reaction out of you because he knows he can’t beat yo-,” I began to shout, before Blightcaller spun me around to face him and backhanded me hard against the face. I fell silent as tears welled up in my eyes again, but I convinced myself they were from the force of the slap, not from fear or embarrassment.

“You will learn your place, brat!” I felt Blightcaller’s spittle fly onto my face as he scolded me. I looked behind him to see the wall of ice cracking and falling away. Jaina was letting us pass. 

“We will find you, Nathanos! Your Horde will pay for what they’ve done!” the mage screamed from the edge of the harbor.

The party and I scrambled towards the ship before Jaina could change her mind. Blightcaller marched me below deck, throwing me harshly to the floor as the ship lurched away from the dock. I curled up defensively, waiting for a swift kick to the ribs or another slap to the face. None came, but I still heard Blightcaller’s cruel laughter from above me. He roughly grabbed one of my wrists, and dragged me to the wall of the ship, where he closed my arm in one of the iron shackles hanging down. 

He got up, and spat a thick wad of saliva onto the wood floor just next to my leg. I glared daggers at him, trying to look braver and more threatening than I felt. While he was still facing me, I flexed my other hand just slightly, putting a small patch of black ice on the first step upstairs. Blightcaller turned around, then began to stalk up the steps, his foot coming out from under him helplessly as it hit the first step. He sent himself face first into the wooden stairs, catching himself just before his perfectly manicured face hit anything.

He cocked his head back towards me, but I turned away like I hadn’t seen anything. Was that _embarrassment_ I noticed before I looked away? It felt good to bring Blightcaller down a notch, as terrifying of a man as he was. 

He stomped up the steps again, avoiding the first one this time, and then I was alone. There was a small window across the ship from me, which would alternate between showing the sea and a glimpse of what was above the water as the ship rocked slightly. I watched the window flicker from the water to the air, seeing Stormwind City grow tinier and tinier as I was taken away. 

The last thing I saw was the large dark clouds of smoke that always billowed up from Dwarven District grow smaller until they faded into nothing. I saw only the sea now, with shame and fear coming to accompany me for the journey below deck.


	2. Harsh Winds

Anduin Wrynn, High King of Stormwind, raced through the Trade District towards Stormwind Harbor. The wind coursed through his golden hair, blowing in his face coldly as he moved through the night. Somewhere in his head, Anduin wished that the breeze felt comforting, as it did when he would ride in Elwynn when he was younger. Even the wind turned harsh as the world darkened and the king grew older. 

He pulled his horse to a thundering halt at the top of the stairs overlooking the docks, where in the distance, a small ship sailed away. He could see Jaina standing on the edge of the wood, watching the ship go. What had just happened?  
Anduin dismounted and jogged quickly down the steps to Jaina, his grand plate armor clinking with every movement. Genn Greymane appeared from the nearby Cathedral Square tunnel, and followed closely behind, transformed back into his human form. Knowing the older man, Anduin thought it was curious that he wasn’t showing himself as a worgen when there were Horde fugitives currently in the city. He had observed Genn to take on his “softer” form when something was truly troubling him emotionally. Something was clearly not right.

Anduin called Jaina’s name as the two men neared her, but her attention remained fixed on the ship that was becoming a speck on the horizon. 

“Jaina, what happened?” Anduin asked, placing a gentle hand on the mage’s shoulder, turning her slightly to face him. He watched a single tear fall down her face, which she quickly wiped away, replacing with a cold look of anger. 

“Jaina,” he repeated, “Who is on that ship?” Jaina searched her king’s face for awhile, as if buying herself time to formulate a response. Anduin looked at Genn’s face as well, hoping to get a hint. His brows furrowed in worry, uncharacteristic of the anger that normally plagued his features. He looked back to Jaina. She took a shallow breath.

“As you know, the Horde sent a small party to break into the Stockades and rescue some politically powerful allies from the prison. As they were making their escape, they travelled through Cathedral Square,” Jaina explained, seeming to choose her words carefully. Having been close with Jaina his entire life, Anduin knew that in recent years, the mage had abandoned certain aspects of her civility when it came to the Horde. His stomach turned a bit at the fact that Jaina was trying to break some news to him carefully. 

Jaina’s mention of Cathedral Square piqued his attention suddenly.  _ Y/N _ , he thought,  _ She loves to take walks by the church _ . Anduin’s realization must have dawned on his face as Genn continued the conversation from there. 

“We intercepted the party prior to their move to the harbor. I commanded my worgen to stop them at any cost.”

“Who was in the party, Genn? Who did they take?” 

“The Horde sent Rokhan, the Darkspear troll, Thalyssra, the Nightborne from Suramar, and—,” he hesitated before continuing, some anger returning to his brow, “Nathanos Blightcaller.” Genn watched Anduin’s face in expectation of the news that Sylvanas Windrunner’s champion had been a part of the prison breakout. The younger man remained stoic for the moment, not satisfied with the information supplied.

“Genn,  _ who did they take _ ?” Anduin repeated, more urgently this time, looking quickly between both of Greymane’s eyes. Genn took a deep breath before continuing, and the words began to spew out of his mouth.

“The party managed to extract the Zandalari Princess Talanji and the prophet Zul, which was believed to be their main objective. When they reached Cathedral Square however, when my worgen and I discovered them, they were in the midst of capturing Princess Y/N, who had taken a walk alone from the Keep. I ordered my guard to stop attacking, as Nathanos threatened your sister’s life if we did not let them leave. She insisted we let them go. As they headed towards the harbor, we cleared out the rest of the Square and found Officer Brady’s body. It appeared that he was escorting your sister, but the Blightcaller killed him as he raised the alarm.” He finished explaining, spitting on the ground in disgust at the mention of Nathanos and in pity of the loss of a good man.

Anduin’s stoicism began to fade fast, but he still needed to know everything that happened before he would let his rage come through. He turned his attention back to Jaina, who watched the young king’s face with sadness.

“Jaina, what happened once they reached the docks?”

“I tried to slow them down with a blizzard. I cut off their route to the boat, but then Nathanos showed that they had Y/N as a hostage. She called out to me to let them go. She was afraid for her life,” she sniffled, “Blightcaller beat her in front of me when she spoke up. I can’t imagine how terrified she must feel right now, in custody of that bastard!” Jaina began to cry softly, burying her face in Anduin’s shoulder. The High King was surprised that such a matter made both Genn and Jaina so emotional, when tears of his own failed to reach the surface. He was devastated, of course, but his sadness at the loss of his little sister quickly hardened into resolve to end the Blightcaller’s life.

Carrying out the attack on Teldrassil, murdering thousands through fire and plague, and now taking his sister hostage? Nathanos Blightcaller, and in turn, Sylvanas Windrunner, were not being subtle about their want for war. And thinking of Y/N being at the mercy of Nathanos was enough to make Anduin decide to give it to them. He puffed his plated chest out slightly before turning back to Genn, Jaina still weeping softly into his shoulder.

“Contact the commanders and ambassadors. Have them convene in Stormwind Keep in 2 hours. If it is war the Horde so blatantly desires, they can have it. Sylvanas grows reckless. We will show no mercy, just as she failed to show to the thousands killed at the World Tree, and as Nathanos foolishly withheld from my own sister,” Anduin commanded, causing Genn to stand up a bit straighter. He nodded once to his king, a hint of pride rising in his chest at the strength and authority the younger man was showing.   
“And in the meantime, my king, what will you do?” Greymane asked, as Anduin started back towards the steps leading up into the city.

“I have an orc to meet.”

~

Rifle Commander Coe watched King Wrynn enter the Stockades practically seething, but didn’t say anything as the young man stormed past. He didn’t want to take any more heat for the breakout that just happened, least of all from the leader of the Alliance himself.

The only sound that accompanied Anduin as he made his way to a very specific cell in the back of the Stockades was that of his plate boots marching quickly on the stone floor. Light splashes of water echoed, reminding Anduin of how empty and sullen the prison actually was. Even more empty, he realized, now that the Zandalari escaped.

He opened the enchanted prison cell without a key, his hand being all Anduin needed to gain entry. On the far end of the cell, if one could call it far, sat a giant green orc, in a dark red Horde tabard and armor, but without a weapon.

“What brings you back to this place, Wrynn?” the orc asked roughly, without even turning around. His booming voice bounced off of the cell walls, making Anduin feel outmanned even when it was just them two in the room. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, there was a breakout from the Stockades earlier tonight. It was done by a Horde party made up of some of Sylvanas’ champions. Why are you still here?” Anduin asked quickly, not wanting to waste either of their time.

“Sylvanas would prefer I rot in a cell than be brought back to Orgrimmar to be insubordinate to her. I would prefer as much space between the banshee and I. The party you speak of stopped by my cell, but I would not go with them,” the orc answered, still staring at the wall.

“Do you know if they were headed back to Orgrimmar? Or somewhere else?”   
“I heard the Blightcaller arguing with the Zandalari about where they would return to as they approached. He was in a sour mood once they made it to my cell, so I figured the troll princess had gotten her way. Chances are they have made their way to Zuldazar. The warchief had briefly mentioned to me the possibility of the Horde aligning with the Zandalari Empire, and Blightcaller wouldn’t have relented as easily to someone else’s wishes if he didn’t know Sylvanas required allyship with the trolls.”

Anduin thought this over for a moment before speaking again. The orc turned his head slightly, as if to check that the human was still in his cell.

“What if you were exchanged to the Horde for a valuable prisoner?” Anduin offered, trying to gauge the orc’s response as he faced the wall. The orc sighed and stretched, bored with the conversation. He stood up and came around the other end of the bench, closer to Anduin. Even from a few feet away, Anduin could feel how Varok Saurfang loomed over him, not threateningly, but purely physically.

“I admire your attempt, Wrynn, but as I stated before, Sylvanas has no desire for me. Having my opposition locked away on another continent is perfect to her.” Anduin’s hopes dashed a bit at this response.

“They took my sister, Saurfang.” Varok’s brow furrowed in confusion, just slightly. He knew that wasn’t part of the Horde’s extraction plan.

“I do not see the honor in kidnapping a young woman, Wrynn,” Anduin looked expectantly at Saurfang for his next words, “but I cannot help you. Not quite yet. Trying to exchange for your sister will only make you seem desperate. Nathanos and his Lady will milk that for all its worth of your weakness.” 

Anduin sighed quietly in frustration, but knew deep down Saurfang was right. He nodded once to the old orc and walked out of the cell, shutting it firmly behind him. 

The cold darkness of the Stockades matched the chill that began to grow within Anduin. The Horde had stooped low when they decided to take the Princess of Stormwind from her home. Back when the Legion was on Azeroth’s doorstep, the opposing factions had stood as one against the threat. Now, Anduin had to think of how to save his own sister, not from otherworldly demons, but from old allies. He always valued peace, but as his father had written prior to his death, to preserve it, one must be willing to fight.

Anduin thought back to his ride through the city, how harsh the wind had felt against his face. Earlier, the king merely  _ thought _ the world was darkening around him, but now realized he was right. As much as it frightened him, Anduin Wrynn realized that it was time for him to change too.


	3. Filth Beneath His Feet

I jerked awake when the ship screeched into port. My arm was sore from being held upright in the iron chain for so long. Blightcaller hadn’t returned below deck the entire journey to Orgrimmar, at least not when I was awake, so having time alone was a strange sort of comforting.

I heard steps coming down the stairs, and tensed up in preparation of seeing Blightcaller again. I sighed slightly in relief when the smaller troll from earlier came down with an iron key. Even though he had held an axe to my throat a few hours (or was it days?) earlier, I much preferred the troll to Blightcaller. He nodded slightly to me, more as a, “Please act right,” than a true hello. I decided to ask his name.

“Rokhan, miss Wrynn.” Huh. _Miss_ _Wrynn?_ That felt more polite that I deserved. He bent down and unlocked the shackle, freeing me to bend my arm down and massage it to get some of the blood flow back into it. I thanked Rokhan and asked how long it had taken us to get to Orgrimmar. 

“Princess Talanji insisted that we be headed to Zuldazar, not Orgrimmar. A bit shorta’ on de boat. And here we be,” he answered, offering me a hand up. I took it cautiously, beginning to wonder if Rokhan would be who I should cling to for safety. 

“I recommend ya stick close to our party when we enta’ the city. Ya wouldn’t be welcome in Orgrimmar, and ya sure to be fresh meat in Zuldazar too. Ya best chance is with da Horde, princess,” he explained as he hoisted me to my feet. I considered this as he walked me upstairs, avoiding the puddle of water that remained from my humbling of Blightcaller.

The bright sunlight above deck was blinding, forcing me to cover my eyes with an arm to adjust. I felt my clothes begin to cling to me a little more, the air feeling thick with moisture. It felt a lot more like Stranglethorn than Elwynn, that was for sure.

Once my eyesight adjusted, I looked around the harbor we had pulled into. Across the dock from us was a long line of what looked to be military ships. They were definitely troll-made, with giant, bright voodoo masks adorning the hulls and painted patterns on every railing and edge of the wood. The Zandalari had a major navy power. And they were how far from Stormwind?

My thoughts were interrupted by Blightcaller snapping two new shackles on my wrists. They hummed quietly, and based on the fact that I couldn’t cast a spell to cool myself down, they were anti-magic. He was being cautious with me. Nathanos must really think me to be an idiot if he thought I would just go off on an entire troll empire with a few frostbolts and a water elemental. Or maybe he didn’t want to fall on his ass in front of his subordinates.

Either way, I looked up at him defiantly as he placed them on, his red gaze meeting mine at full strength. I only broke eye contact to look down when he pinched my skin with the shackles “accidentally”, and when I looked back at him his smirk had returned. 

“Remember who is in charge here, Wrynn. The Zandalari would gladly use your blood as a sacrifice to any of their gods,” Blightcaller warned as he led me off the ship, onto the solid stone dock. 

“We do not use the blood of children as a sacrifice to our  _ loa _ , Nathanos,” Princess Talanji answered sternly over her shoulder, and I swore I heard Blightcaller growl in the back of his throat. Normally I would be offended that she referred to me as a child, but seeing Blightcaller be corrected was worth it.

We walked to the end of the harbor where it connected with what looked to be a marketplace, and in the distance, a large pyramid loomed over us all. I was just enjoying the sights, although the looks I was getting in return from the local trolls were not as enthusiastic. Unfortunately, Blightcaller seemed to notice too, which gave him an excuse to pull me closer to him as we walked. 

The temple and jungle trees were so large that they covered the entire area in shade, but the humidity was so severe that the respite from the sun offered no true relief. I lifted my arms and wiped my forehead off, making Blightcaller grip my arm tighter as he thought I was making some sort of escape. Putting my arms back down, I looked over at him to loosen his death grip on me, but his eyes ignored me and his hand remained. I rolled my eyes. 

We eventually made it to the base of the temple stairs, and started the lengthy walk up. Talanji continued to lead the way, clearing the steps two at a time with her long troll legs. I had to almost run to keep up with Nathanos, who was keeping up with Talanji, and by the time we reached the first landing I was again covered in sweat. I looked around and luckily, the other Horde party members were huffing and puffing too. 

Talanji led us inside, allowing us to wash up in one of the fountains near the entrance. I went to get a handful of water to splash my face, but Blightcaller smacked my hand away. Confused, I looked up at him. He grabbed the back of my neck and forced my face close to the water, where he began to splash my face himself. The water was cool, but Blightcaller’s little power play did nothing to relax me. When he pulled me back up, coughing and sputtering, I was thoroughly washed but felt grosser than I had before for some reason.

“I wouldn’t expect a wretched human to know how to properly wash her face, so I figured I would lend a helping hand,  _ princess _ ,” he mocked, loud enough for the other Horde members to bask in my humiliation. He dabbed my face dry with the available cloths nearby. I debated reminding Blightcaller about the fact that he may be undead, but his body was certainly a human, just like me. He had no room to talk.

I simply watched Blightcaller as he waited for my response. He expected to get a rise out of me, to get me frustrated and emotional. Without as much as a glare, I turned away from him and prepared to follow Talanji. I heard a small huff of discontentment. Good.

We continued deeper into the temple, seeing several shrines and offering bowls neatly kept and arranged around the edge of the room. Talanji led us onto a giant lift, which carried us out of the darker worship area to a brighter, busier section of the temple. She called it “The Great Seal”, and led us through a few of the rooms included. There was a grand vault room, an empty training room that I heard Thalyssra and Rokhan mumble to each other about being useful for the Horde, and then up a flight of stairs, where sat a mission command table, with several maps of Zandalar and Azeroth strewn about. 

I was innocently looking at the maps when Blightcaller turned me away from them, forcing me to face the outside of the room. This time I did roll my eyes. What did he expect me to do with what I saw? I couldn’t even understand what the notes on the maps were. 

While I was turned around, however, I watched two Zandalari trolls carry in a giant chest, with staves and swords and other weapons sticking out. My eyes followed them to the vault room. If I could get my hands on a staff, maybe I could find a way to teleport out of here. 

I was pulled again from my thoughts as Talanji continued her tour. We clambered onto another giant lift, this one taking us up into an even more well-lit part of the temple. When we reached the top, it was a mostly open section, and I could see out into Zuldazar for miles. There were lush green forests covering every inch I could see, some of them being darker leaves than the bright jungle green nearby. The stark contrast reminded me of Elwynn and Duskwood. I had a pang of sadness and fear for the question of when or if I would stand on the Darkened Bank again. 

Nathanos pulled me to the walled section of the temple, which seemed to be the Zandalari’s throne room. Adorned with the most gold I had ever seen in my life, a huge throne sat stacked high on stone in the center. In it, a troll, larger and older than Talanji, was sprawled, as if he wanted to look professional and royal but was too tired to play the part. A hulking brute of a troll stood guard on one side, and cracked its huge knuckles as it looked over our visiting party. Two female Zandalari stood as stiff as a board on each side of the throne, not looking at any of us, but I knew they were watching our every move. 

Talanji jogged up to the throne and threw her arms around the older troll happily. I couldn’t hear what they were saying from where I stood, but eventually Talanji turned with the other troll and then began to explain who everyone was. She told the older troll about the rescue of her and the other large troll in Stormwind, called Zul, I learned, from the city. She introduced each Horde member, and the older troll nodded at each of them. His eyes fell on me once Talanji’s story concluded. 

I bowed my head down and curtsied slightly, trying to show respect how I thought was appropriate. I heard Blightcaller snicker beside me, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. The older troll raised his chin at me, as if considering me for a moment. Talanji explained that I was the princess of Stormwind, blood of the very kingdom who captured her. She didn’t say that exactly, but I was betting the troll could put two and two together and realize the young human in chains in front of him was in fact, on the opposing side. 

Talanji finished her report and then stepped away from the throne to listen to the older troll speak. He straightened up in his seat, his large headdress moving stiffly with him. 

“To da Horde dat saved my daughta from the Alliance,” he shot me a warning look, “welcome to Zandalar. I am King Rastakhan, God King of the Zandalari. You have done a service to my kingdom by protectin’ my daughta and da prophet Zul. You have my ear, for now.” His deep voice commanded the room effortlessly. 

Blightcaller passed me to Thalyssra before walking up with Rokhan closer to the throne. Both of them bowed in reverence, and Rokhan began to explain the benefits of an alliance between the Zandalari and the Horde. For once, Blightcaller just listened. King Rastakhan nodded every so often, but overall I couldn’t gauge if he was on board or not. 

They talked and talked for awhile, but I stopped listening early on. I turned around slowly, making sure Thalyssra knew I wasn’t going to try to escape, and looked out at Zuldazar again. Seeing a new land was exciting, even under the current circumstances. I imagined myself riding a horse through the thick jungle, humid air breezing through my hair as I rode. 

My stomach rumbled loudly suddenly, loud enough for the Nightborne next to me to hear. She conjured a tiny mana pie and handed it discreetly to me, which I scarfed down while still turned away from the throne conversation. The sweet frosting over the surprisingly warm bread greeted my tongue and my body hummed with mana. I nodded my thanks, but she stared straight ahead like nothing happened. I turned back around and luckily saw that the Horde’s conversation with Rastakhan seemed to be wrapping up. Talanji mentioned it was time for a feast, and my stomach rumbled again, a bit quieter, in excitement. We all followed her back down the lift, then deeper into the temple on the level of the Great Seal, where we came into a large royal dining room. 

It was more than enough to put the Stormwind dining room to shame. The ceiling was at least 30 feet above my head, making the room seem even grander and spacious than it appeared when we first walked in. I just stood there looking up at the gorgeous gold ornaments and patterns that lined the walls. I was almost forgetting that I was a hostage. 

Talanji led the Horde members to a large dining table in the center of the room, and had them sit. I awkwardly lingered, unsure of what the etiquette was for a guest who was actually a kidnapped enemy of the empire. Talanji snapped her fingers and a Zandalari servant entered with a small wooden chair, not near as grand as the others seated around the table, and placed it directly next to Blightcaller. I tried to thank the servant, but they scurried off with a wary glare at me. 

I took my place and waited eagerly for food. My shackled hands sat in my lap as I waited, watching more servants pour out of the doors that I presumed led to the kitchen, their strong blue and green arms carrying hefty servings of meat and cheese, bread, fresh fruit, and drinks. I realized I didn’t have a plate or a fork in front of me. 

I looked across the table at Rokhan, who seemed to notice the same thing, but didn’t bring it up. The Horde members began to fill their plates. Next to me, Blightcaller grabbed at least one of everything, his meat still steaming, the scent wafting into my nose and making my mouth water. He placed the warm bread and fresh cheese next to each other on the plate, adding some bright but delicious looking ripe fruit on the other side. I thought I had to catch myself drooling for a moment, before something strange occurred to me.

As Blightcaller and the other Horde members got their plates ready and back in front of them, when Rokhan and Thalyssra and Talanji began to eat, Nathanos just sat there. I looked sideways at him, and when he met my confused look with a cruel smirk, it made sense. Forsaken don’t have to eat. They hardly even liked to. I had heard rumors that they only  _ really  _ prefer raw meat. Blightcaller seemed to fit the bill.

Blightcaller sat directly next to me, not even a foot away, with his full and steaming plate of food wafting its delicious scents directly into my face. I tried to make an angry face, but my stomach thundering beneath my shackled hands took away my edge. Whatever edge I thought I had.

The others at the table took notice of this interaction as well, and it felt like what happened at the fountains earlier. Then, I didn’t have to give him a reaction. But now, my stomach was betraying my stone resolve. 

Instead of sitting and starving, I decided to speak up. Speaking directly to my fellow princess, I asked, “Your Majesty, do I have permission to eat some of the food you’ve laid out so graciously for your guests?”

Talanji nodded, somewhat annoyed, but I didn’t know if it was at me or Nathanos, as she may have caught on to the fact that the only undead at the table had the fullest plate, and was purposely leaving it untouched. I didn’t take the time to care, and reached to grab a turkey leg straight off the steaming bird. 

Blightcaller wrenched my wrist away, and threw my hands back down into my lap. His eyes dared me to challenge him, to embarrass myself in front of the others, but what did I care? They were watching us anyway, not because of my actions. Blightcaller was just being a power hungry creep. 

“Nathanos,” I asked as polite as I could muster, “can I please have some of the food?” His eyes sparked, whether in pride or fury, I didn’t know. He seemed to be considering his options, but I could tell he felt the eyes of his fellow Horde members on him from all around the table. Blightcaller relented and shoved his untouched plate over to me. 

I ate as politely as I could, but it quickly became me wolfing it down. To be fair, I had no doubt that Blightcaller would take it away from me in a second, so I had to eat what I got when I got it. I chugged a goblet of water, then another, gorging on the turkey and fruit and bread. Getting kidnapped was hungry work, I guessed. 

When I was finished and the plate was clean, I heard Blightcaller scoff next to me. He grabbed the back of my neck as he did at the fountain, forcefully wiping my already clean mouth off with a cloth. I looked over to Rokhan as this happened, the troll’s face contorting ever so slightly at Blightcaller’s controlling action. If the other Horde members were also uncomfortable, that was beneficial to me. Maybe I could appeal to the more sympathetic side of them.

The meal finished, Talanji instructed one of her royal guards to lead Blightcaller and I down to their holding cells. The rest of the party followed her elsewhere in the temple. He pulled me along, as we descended several lifts into the very base of the pyramid, which was cooler and darker than what we’d previously explored. Blightcaller marched me past several cells, many of them large, but empty. Tall iron beams separated the few prisoners from freedom, with a Zandalari guard every 3 cells or so. Reaching the very end of the row, the royal guard unlocked the gate and waved Blightcaller and me inside. The troll stood there for a moment, waiting for the undead man to release me and return to the upper parts of the temple. 

My full stomach clenched fearfully when Nathanos darkly instructed the troll, “Leave us.” The Zandalari arched an eyebrow, then shut the cell door and walked away. I was locked in with Blightcaller. I felt like a piece of meat thrown into a lion’s den.

Blightcaller began to circle me slowly, I knew as an intimidation tactic. I don’t know what he expected me to do. He used me as leverage to gain a safe exit out of Stormwind. What else did he want from me?

“Can I get these shackles off my wrists? My fingers feel all tingly,” I tried casually, acting like I didn’t notice Nathanos’ prowling. He stopped directly in front of me, uncomfortably close and I could feel his red eyes bearing into me once again. I didn’t look up. I trained my eyes perfectly forward, as if I saw something interesting just past his right shoulder. 

“You try to hide your fear with casual conversation and defiance. It still smells the same as it did in Stormwind. Frantic, desperate, unsure of your surroundings. Always on alert. You have every right to be afraid, princess. Just know that I see right through your mask. You persuade those around you with charm and kindness, but remember this, whelp,” he lifted my chin with a gloved hand, squeezing my jaw with a threatening pressure, “ _ I am not your friend _ .” He tossed my head to the side, disgusted. 

“Why am I still alive, then? Why not just leave me to die out at sea, or drop me off at some island on the way here? The whole display with the fountain, and at dinner...you  _ help _ me but want to make it look like you’re doing it to spite me. What’s it all for?” I demanded, sick of his games. I looked up at him this time, mustering up my courage to get answers. It didn’t make sense for him to have kept me alive and paraded me around Zuldazar if I was only an escape mechanism.

Blightcaller said nothing as he walked back to the cell door. I moved quickly in front of him, standing between him and the exit. 

“Answer me, Blightcaller! Why am I here?” I pressed, his eyes flaring in anger. 

“Impetuous child!” he barked. He raised his hand to backhand me again, but this time I defended myself with the shackles. I caught his hand in the long chain connecting my wrists, and froze. My eyes widened as I realized what I was doing. Blightcaller’s seething look led me to follow through with my attack.

I ducked under his arm, pulling his hand with me behind his back. I barely could hold his strong arm to his back, pushing with all my might as I forced the man against the iron bars. He looked back at me as far as he could, thick eyebrows furrowed in utter indignation. 

Watching his face meant I missed his other arm move subtly towards his belt, where he procured the same small dagger he held to my neck in Stormwind. I saw his eyes soften, and a smirk began to form. 

He attacked suddenly, his free arm swinging backwards, following the might of his elbow. I ducked down and dodged the blow, but the movement loosened my grip on his other hand. Blightcaller freely spun around, planting a huge boot on my chest and kicking me to the floor. My restrained hands prevented me from catching myself, and my head hit the cold floor forcefully. He pounced on me with the knife, trapping me against the floor with his weight, holding my arms over my head. I blinked through the daze, trying to see what was happening.

Blightcaller raised the blade and brought it down directly into a spot of flesh below my collarbone. My body exploded in pain, and I felt magic surge through me up to my hands, even past the shackles. Blightcaller looked up briefly, seeming to notice the surge. I tensed up as he paid closer attention to me, only bringing more ache to my body as my muscles tightened around the knife. I yelped, but the man over me covered my mouth with his leather glove. 

I looked up at him, fear and pain plain in my eyes, unsure of where his fury would affect me next. My chest throbbed. Blightcaller brought his face close to mine, our foreheads almost touching. I knew not to look away from the red orbs that bore into me, even if I didn’t have a dagger lodged in my chest. 

“Extracting the Zandalari from your repugnant Stockades was the only objective my Lady gave to me. Stumbling upon the idiotic princess of Stormwind, all alone, fully afraid, was simply an added bonus. There was no purpose in taking you other than safeguarding our escape, but I didn’t want to give up such a delicious prize,” he inhaled deeply, making me flinch away in disgust, “when I didn’t feel like I got everything out of you that I could. You were merely a tool to protect us from that bitch mage, and that mongrel Gilneas calls king. But seeing how hurriedly they released valuable prisoners for  _ your _ safety? You could bring kingdoms down with the power of everyone who wants to coddle you. I’m dying to see how the High King himself reacts to his precious little sister being in the hands of the enemy.” He accentuated the last part by stroking the hand that was over my mouth lightly up my side. My dinner threatened to reappear in my throat.

“So, Wrynn, while I have you, I will make the most of you. Don’t think I don’t notice the other Horde showing more kindness to you than appropriate. Everyone else views you as a child; I see you as a threat, even while I am in full control. I will not extend the same hospitality to you. Do not come to expect it, and do not come to expect any further kindness from the rest of the Horde from here on out. You are the enemy. You are the  _ other _ . You are my  _ prisoner _ . You are lower than the filth that clung to my boots while taking you from Stormwind, and will be treated as such. Don’t forget it.” With that, Blightcaller dislodged the dagger from my flesh harshly, and it felt like he purposely turned the blade as he unsheathed it. 

I cried out in pain and ire, remaining on the cold floor as Nathanos stood back up. He didn’t say another word, or give so much as another glance in my direction as he signaled for the Zandalari guard to return and let him out. I watched him leave, listening to his dirty boots sound quieter and quieter as he exited the prison. 

If I was to be the filth on his boots, then I would stick like mud did. Blightcaller could try to spray me off through intimidation and torment all he wanted, but I would seep in to the cracks instead. I may be his prisoner, but my value came from me being alive, from me being a wager to the Alliance. He revealed that much through his warm explanation in my face. I knew now he wouldn’t kill me. He couldn’t.

And even in the prison cell, that made me feel free. If he wasn’t done with me? Then I wasn’t done with him. I was just getting started. 


	4. Dash of Hope

I must have stayed on the floor like that for hours after Blightcaller left me in the dark. I stared up at the ceiling, my wound aching dully, just relishing in the silence. I hadn’t a moments peace since I heard the footsteps back in Cathedral Square, and just had a feeling I would need this time to myself. Even alone, I could feel Blightcaller’s presence. He was nowhere near me, and yet with me always. I shuddered, but told myself it was from the cold of the stone, and not from the thoughts of the Dark Ranger.

My back began to spasm against the solid floor, so I moved myself to the small cot in the corner that the Zandalari so graciously provided.  _ A princess in her castle _ , I thought jokingly to myself. I smiled softly, feeling comforted by the fact that I could still laugh with myself even in a prison cell. I let myself get lost in my thoughts again as I laid on the cot, my body sinking in slightly to the dusty material. 

I watched the flames of the torches that lined the prison walkway, observing how they danced and flickered, even with no breeze down here. They cast a shadow on the walls behind them. The light they gave reminded me of Goldshire, the warm glow of the Lion’s Pride Inn visible from far along the path back up to Stormwind. I closed my eyes and pictured myself walking in, greeted by music playing cheerfully and loads of people joking and conversing with each other. I found a seat at the bar, where the bartender passed me a drink that I didn’t even need to order. Anduin was there. In civilian clothes, hair pulled back in his normal ponytail, I pictured my brother being one of the crowd, which I always knew was one of his greatest desires. To be a part of his people. To be accepted. 

I saw my father walk in, too. Unlike my brother, he wore his usual bulky armor, which seemed to always be on him in the later years of his life. I couldn’t remember a time that my father wasn’t prepared to fight. He came in and sat down next to Anduin, immediately welcomed into the group. His desire was never for acceptance, I knew that. He wanted to relax. He wanted peace, even though no part of his outward appearance would suggest that. I imagined him sipping down an ale, joking with my brother and the other men in the Inn, but always making quick glances towards the doorway. Always on alert.

_ Always on alert. You have every right to be afraid, princess.  _ Blightcaller’s words echoed again in my head, ripping me from my daydream. I opened my eyes again to the coldness of the cell. I felt my moments of peace slowly slipping through my fingers. I wondered how much longer I would be the me I was now, before Blightcaller proved to me how much he was  _ not my friend _ as he had spelled out before. I wondered how much longer I would have until something within me changed, until who I was in this moment would be but a memory. I hated that I was revolving so much of who I was around what I feared Blightcaller would do to me, what he would take from me, but I figured it was reasonable. People terrified out of their minds have to cope somehow, right? If I told myself things would soon be different, then maybe when they actually changed, I would be more prepared. Deep down, I knew that was a defense mechanism. It felt weak even as I thought it to myself. My fear tainted everything.

I let my eyes begin to droop, this time not to escape back home to the Eastern Kingdoms but to fall into my dreams. The torchlight breaking through the darkness of the cell felt like a sunset in a way, the cover of my eyelids acting as the night that followed a setting sun. I did not know who I would become by the time I watched another sunrise. The thought haunted me deep in my bones as I fell asleep.

~~

I woke up what I thought was hours later to a prodding in my side. I opened my eyes to see one of the guards standing over me, prodding me with the handle end of his spear, while a smaller troll wearing healer’s robes stood behind him. I sat up slowly, then smiled softly at the healer who looked reluctant to approach. The guard stepped to the side and waved her forward, giving me a stern look.

I sat patiently as the healer worked wordlessly, carefully pushing back my robes to expose the wound from earlier. She must have been a druid, because when green magic wrapped her hands and she began to mend my chest, I swore I tasted fresh grass. She moved to my other side, moving my robes to expose the cut on my side from Blightcaller’s missed arrow back in Cathedral Square. I had honestly forgotten about it, but now that the healer paid attention to it, I was reminded of how painful it was. I also noticed the brown coloring of dried blood that must have seeped through way back in the city. She quickly brought the skin back together, and I looked down to see there was no longer evidence that the arrow had ever even grazed me. I wondered if the same could be done to my mind once Blightcaller inflicted more damage on me. The healer stood back up, and I thanked her as she turned to leave. She nodded only once in return.

When they were almost out of my cell, I asked the guard who had sent them. Before he could respond, a large figure, larger than the guard, came into view. Baine Bloodhoof ducked under the cell door, nodding his thanks to the guard and healer as they left.

“I had a feeling Nathanos would not be kind to you, little one. He tends to bring...death wherever he goes,” the tauren tried carefully, his warm voice enveloping me like a hug. I had never formally met him before, but I knew he and Anduin had built a friendship over the past few years, even across enemy lines.

“Thank you, Chieftain. Does he know you did this?” I asked, knowing Blightcaller would not be happy to see the Horde showing me more kindness. Baine sighed heavily, as if he remembered the same thing. He shook his head, his long braids and feathers swaying slightly.

“Anduin got word to me about your capture a few days ago. Understandably, he asked me to intervene. I told him I would do what I could from this end, but admitted that it might not be much,” the tauren explained, still standing in the doorway of the cell. I wished I had a seat to offer him, but the cot might snap under his massive frame, and the stone floor would just be uncomfortable. 

“Bringing a healer here was more than enough, Baine. Thank you. When did you arrive in Zuldazar?”  
“About two days ago. Thalyssra opened up the portals and the Horde has basically moved into the Great Seal and surrounding areas. It seems Rokhan and Nathanos’ work with the Zandalari have been successful.”

_ Two days ago?  _ I thought to myself.  _ How long have I been out? _

My confusion must have showed on my face, because Baine began to speak again.

“I came down here yesterday as well, but you were out cold. I thought you would need your rest.” I nodded quietly, realizing I did feel well-rested and alert. I wonder how long that would last. There was a lingering silence, Baine unsure of what to explain next, and me not sure which of my questions to ask.

“Has Blightcaller said anything about me to you? Or to any of the other Horde leaders?” I asked. I hated that it sounded like I hoped Blightcaller was speaking highly of me. Like I actually cared what he thought of me.

“Rokhan tells me that he reminded the party that was present for your abduction from Stormwind to show no mercy. Something about mana pies, too. Nathanos instructed that you be treated as the enemy, as they would treat your brother were he in your state. Failure to do so would be regarded as an act of treason against the Warchief herself. Other than that, he hasn’t shared much. From what I know, Nathanos keeps a high level of privacy when it comes to very important pieces of information, or valuable tools against his enemies. I’m sure Sylvanas is aware of whatever he thinks of you or your usefulness, but he has failed to divulge anything to me quite yet. I am sure it is because of my known correspondence with your brother.” 

I nodded quietly again, trying to take in everything I heard. If Blightcaller was being secretive about me, I knew it couldn’t be good. He saw me as something to be used, something he didn’t want to share with others. My stomach clenched nervously. Deep in my heart I knew I wouldn’t be going back to Stormwind for a long while.

“I will do my best to be a relayer between you and Anduin, princess. Blightcaller cannot know, so if I interact with you more harshly in the presence of others, there is no truth to it. It would be wise for you to do the same,” the tauren instructed, placing a large hand gently on my shoulder. 

The comforting gesture made me realize how much I missed the embrace of a friend. The touch of a companion, of someone not actively trying to end my life. A hint of safety, a dash of hope. I placed my small hand on top of his, barely covering the back of his palm. Baine removed his hand and turned to leave, stopping just once before he closed the door behind him. 

He turned to me and said, “You are stronger than him, Y/N. As hard as he and the Banshee Queen may try, they cannot kill hope. Keep that within you.” 

I listened as his hooves padded softly away from my prison, my only friend in a sea of enemies, floating further and further away.


	5. Price of Defiance

I saw him, but never heard his steps approach my cell. Had I been so deep in thought that I let my guard down? Or did he purposely sneak up on me? I decided it was a mixture of both, criticizing myself for being unprepared for his arrival.

Blightcaller said nothing as he wrenched the cell door open and strutted into my area. My conversation with Baine had been only a few hours ago, this I was sure of. I hoped Blightcaller’s appearance down here was not in retaliation for Baine’s kindness. 

I sat silently on my cot, eyes following Blightcaller as he moved. He approached me quickly, grabbing me by the robes and throwing me off my cot to the floor again. My strength having been restored with rest, I got quickly back to my feet, my still-shackled hands held in front of me in a defensive position.

“I see you’ve got a bit more  _ life  _ in you, hmm?” Blightcaller purred, advancing on me once again. I walked backwards, only stopping when my back hit the wall behind me. Blightcaller quickly caged me in with his arms, one on either side of his head, and leaned in dangerously close to my face.

“I’m going to enjoy taking it from you, princess.” Before I could protest, he leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth, his cold, dead lips lightly grazing my warm flesh. On instinct, I planted my hands on his chest and shoved him back as hard as I could. He stumbled back only slightly, moving more out of his own accord than my insistence. With another step forward, Blightcaller raised his sharply armored fist and punched me brutally across the face, his spiked gauntlet cutting deep into my skin where his lips had just touched moments before. 

The blow knocked me sideways, forcing me back down onto the ground, but not for long. I began to stand up again, a bit dazed, but wholly defiant. Blightcaller speeded up the process, again hoisting me up by my robes before slamming me harshly against the wall. I grunted as the wind was knocked out of me, trying to regain my breath as the Dark Ranger pulled his muscled arm back again and connected his fist with my face.

He held me up this time. My head snapped to the side as it had when Blightcaller had backhanded me at Stormwind Harbor, but no tears began to well up this time. I could feel blood flowing freely down my cheek and chin from the gashes in my lip and skin. It was warm, but it didn’t cover the lingering coldness of Blightcaller’s planted kiss. 

“You  _ never _ force me away again, do you hear me?” he spat into my face, forcing me to look at him with a tight grip on my bloodied chin. I looked into his crimson eyes, where I found rage and excitement. He was enjoying this. He wanted my fear, my submission. Not yet.

“You might have to scream it a little louder at me next time, old man. I don’t think the rest of the prison could hear—,” I began. It was a mistake. 

Blightcaller picked me up by the neck, squeezing my airways, forcing my mouth open. He dangled me in the air for a moment, holding me with one arm, while the other grabbed something from his leather pouch attached to his belt. 

I saw a tiny red vial appear, almost as deep a red as his eyes. He popped the cork easily, while I kicked my feet and struggled to close my mouth.

He met my squirming with a more insistent squeeze of my throat, forcing me to cough a bit as my lungs began to beg for air. Blightcaller poured the contents of the vial down my throat, most of it going down as he dropped me. I stopped myself from swallowing a tiny bit of it, keeping it in the front of my mouth. 

My arrival on the stone floor revealed to me what the contents of the vial were supposed to do. My body hit the ground moderately soft, as I hadn’t been lifted that high, but it felt like every bone inside of me was snapping in two within me. I jerked in pain, grunting as I tried to keep my mouth shut. 

Blightcaller kneeled down next to me, his face as close to mine as always. 

“You want to be brave, do you? Want to prove your mettle to me? Let’s see how unbreakable you are around the others, shall we? With a little extra help from me, of course,” he taunted, shaking the empty vial next to my ear. 

I spat. The few red drops flew out of my mouth and inked his ashen skin with crimson stains. I thought it matched his eyes neatly. He wiped the wetness off of his face in revolt, flicking the excess potion to the stone floor. There was true murder in his eyes now, as if there wasn’t before.

Blightcaller stood up and undid his belt in one swift movement. My eyes widened and I tried to scoot away, but before I could defend myself, the Dark Ranger grabbed one of my legs, twisted it unnaturally far to the side, and secured my ankle in the belt as I screamed in pain. I would not be able to walk on that knee from now on, I knew it. 

He began to drag me out of the cell, pulling me behind him. I grabbed at anything my connected hands could reach, where that be an iron bar of a nearby cell, or even at the legs of a nearby Zandalari guard. The trolls paid us nearly no mind as Blightcaller yanked me along, only one of them shooting a worrisome look down at me as Nathanos began to pull me onto the lift by my leg. 

Blightcaller stood over me as we ascended, looking down on me as the cool of the prison left us and was replaced with the humidity of the upper levels of the temple. 

“Alone in your cell, you are the bravest I’ve seen yet, Wrynn. I will savor your cries for mercy when you find yourself surrounded, and yet with no one to grant you peace.”

Tears crept silently into my eyes as the lift halted and Blightcaller began to pull me off. I convinced myself it was because of the pain, not because of the fear. That would always be the case. It had to be.

Nathanos pulled me casually through the Great Seal, as if I was a fresh fish he had just reeled in. He moved quickly, but strutted in a way that begged for the attention of those around him. And he got it. I must have been a sight to behold, with my bloodstained robes, cheek torn apart, and ankle tied with a belt. Horde soldiers and Zandalari troops alike watched Nathanos march me through the temple, bringing us into a worship room, much like the one I had seen when Talanji escorted us around. There were small offering bowls of water and shrines everywhere. Blightcaller’s steps echoed clearly as he dragged me in. 

He dropped the belt and my leg, leaving me stranded in the room as he walked past me. I knew he would be back, but I also knew I couldn’t go anywhere. No warning from Blightcaller to stay put told me that he knew this too.

I tried to catch my breath while he was away, panting as the pain in my knee throbbed and my face ached menacingly. I didn’t have long before I heard his footsteps approaching, many others echoing behind him. 

“What is this, Nathanos?” I heard Baine ask from behind my head.

“This is called a  _ demonstration _ , Chieftain,” Blightcaller answered bitterly, “of how the true Horde should be treating Alliance scum.” He bent down and grabbed a handful of my hair, dragging me upwards, and forcing me to stand gingerly on my now bad leg. I winced as my scalp became wracked with pain, knowing that the potion Blightcaller gave me was making me way more receptive to injury. 

“Now, who would like to go first?” I flicked my eyes around the room quickly, seeing only Baine and the other party members from the Stormwind escape, minus the prophet and Talanji. Being familiar with everyone that was there was a small consolation. And at this point, I would take any comfort I could get.

“Nathanos—,” Rokhan began, before being interrupted by Blightcaller.

“Rokhan, I trust what you’re about to say is not something that could be taken as insubordination, am I correct?” the Dark Ranger asked innocently, but I knew his words were dripping with malice.

The Darkspear troll furrowed his brow at Nathanos, then looked at me. I thought back to him helping me out of my chain at the bottom of the merchant ship when we arrived in Zuldazar. I tried to make the memory come alive in my eyes, to make the troll remember his earlier kindness to me. Keeping eye contact with me, Rokhan responded.

“Nah, Nathanos. I was not about tah disagree with ya.”

“Then you must be our first volunteer! Show this filth what it means to be an enemy of the Horde.”

Rokhan seemed to debate himself for a moment, before walking cautiously towards me. We kept eye contact the whole time, his brow softening as he reached me. I took it to be an apology in advance, even if the troll never meant it. He took a deep breath, and I mirrored him.

Rokhan spun around completely in a flash, his foot connecting solidly with my chest on the turnaround. I was knocked backwards, Nathanos releasing his grip on my hair as I fell. I knew it was an exaggeration from the potion, but hitting the ground on my back felt like my body was made of glass.

I cried out, unable to hide the hurt from Nathanos. Rokhan stood there looking down at me, then looked to Nathanos for approval, hoping his contribution was enough. The Dark Ranger nodded. He waved Thalyssra over next. 

The Nightborne lifted me gently up off the ground with her magic, not stepping up to be near Blightcaller. She then forced me to my knees, my body unable to resist, as it felt like she was manipulating all the mana within me. My mangled leg made its dissent clear to me, making me whimper quietly as I knelt, waiting for the Arcanist’s next move. 

I felt the magic begin to drain out of me, my chest physically pulled forward as Thalyssra seemed to suck my power away from me. It wasn’t outright painful, but I felt weaker with every second that passed. She formed an orb of mana right in front of me, pulsing with what she stole from me. In the next moment, she forced all of the power back into me at once, making my head and lungs surge with overwhelming arcane magic and mana. My chest burned and my head began to pound, my body unable to handle the reallocation of power all at once.

I gasped and sputtered when she was done, almost missing the hum of my shackles go silent. Some of the power just forced back into me made its way to my hands again. I looked up cautiously at Thalyssra, who refused to meet my eye. The Nightborne stormed out of the room without another word. 

“Now, for you, Baine. Make your fellow tauren proud,  _ Chieftain _ ,” Nathanos drawled. Baine did not move. He looked from me to Nathanos, then back again. He huffed a breath through his large nostrils and stepped forward. 

He couldn’t seem to decide what to do. His eyes bounced to the wound on my cheek, the shackles on my hands, even to the bowls of offering water around us. If he lingered any longer, I was sure Blightcaller would become more aware of his hesitation to harm me. I made the first move, remembering what Baine had told me earlier in my cell.

“Go on. Do it,” I spat, forcing myself to look both fearful and furious at Baine standing in front of me. It didn’t take much to fake the expression; I wondered if that was because it was actually the truth of how I felt inside.

“Do it, you stupid cow! Show me the might of your Horde, you—,” I shouted, my verbal assault cut off by a furry hand around my throat, lifting me into the air. Baine carried me over to one of the nearby offering bowls, which was nearly filled to the brim with water. He plopped me down in front of it, then placed his massive hand on the back of my head. He was hesitating again. This time, Blightcaller spoke up.

“Please, do go on, Bloodhoof. I’m enjoying this new side of you.”  
My face hit the cool water, and I felt it quickly envelop my whole head as Baine forced me under. _It's not real, it’s just for show, it’s not real_ , I told myself as my lungs began to shrivel in my chest. He brought me up momentarily, making me gasp as big as I could to bring in all the air my lungs could hold.

“Come on now, tauren!” I heard Blightcaller encourage, “She can go longer than that!” The water overtook me again, Baine’s giant hand keeping me under. My lungs were on fire in seconds, not having had the chance to refill fully with as panicked as I was. I pushed my head up slightly, trying to signal to Baine that I needed air without it being too obvious that he was helping. He released me, but before I fully came up again, a different hand was holding my head down.

I really began to panic now, as the hand on my head felt much smaller. I forced my head back up again, my chest convulsing as I began to inhale water, but the new hand pushed me down even further. I began to scream, no sound coming as more and more water flooded my airways. I felt myself begin to suffocate, when the hand tangled itself in my hair and yanked upwards.

Nathanos threw me to the ground, leaving me to vomit water and bile on the floor of the shrine room, my upper half drenched and dripping. The expulsion of water from my body made me realize how empty my stomach was, and reminded me that it had been at least a few days since I had last eaten.

When I gained back most of my air, I looked up. Baine was standing back by Rokhan, clearly shaken by what had just transpired. Rokhan stood there stoically, no emotion coming to betray his gaze. 

Blightcaller came to my side again, forcing my chin up with his hand. 

“And what do you say for all this, Wrynn? Tell me, tell the Horde, how a good princess says thank you,” he rasped in my ear, holding me close as I tried to squirm away. I continued to gasp for breath before I responded.

“I’m confused, Nathanos,” I began, my voice raspy from retching, hearing a growl set in the back of his throat next to me, “I thought you said I was Alliance filth?” I swear I saw Baine’s eyebrows rise before I felt Nathanos’ hand grip the back of my neck, and my vision darkened, everything in the room around me gaining a strange purple tint to it.

On my knees, I watched as two Horde grunts dragged a body in. They threw him on the ground in front of me, the blond catching himself on his hands and knees. Anduin looked up at me with his clear blue eyes, but something wasn’t right. 

He tried to say something to me, but his voice came through warbled. I watched as Blightcaller walked over, strange purple and energy surging off of him. He began to beat my brother.

Anduin did nothing to defend himself, taking each blow to his face and body with barely more than a whimper. Nathanos pulled out his favorite knife, then slashed Anduin across the face, leaving a large gash across his cheeks and nose that began to bleed out purple blood openly. He looked like our father that way. Every moment Nathanos beat him, Anduin became less like himself. 

“Stop! That’s enough!” I screamed. Blightcaller ignored me, continuing to beat my brother. With every hit, something about Anduin’s appearance changed somehow. His hair darkened rapidly, his shoulders widened. Even his golden plate armor, which I hadn’t noticed at first, transformed to grey and blue plate. 

Nathanos grabbed my brother, pulling him into a chokehold at knifepoint, the dagger pressing steadily into his neck. Only it was no longer Anduin staring back at me.

My father, on his knees and at the mercy of Blightcaller, stared into me fiercely. I looked up at Nathanos, who was carefully watching my expressions. 

“No, no, let him go, Nathanos! You don’t have to do this, it’s me that you want!” I pleaded, unable to move from my spot.

“This is the price of your defiance, Y/N.” I had expected the words to come in a snarky tone from the man about to kill my father, but it came from Varian himself. I looked back to him in confusion, his eyes still bearing into me steadily.

In one swift movement, Nathanos swiped his blade across my father’s neck. He crumpled to the ground in the next moment, eyes still open and locked on me as purple and black blood seeped from his throat. I began to scream openly. I tried to scramble away, but something behind me prevented me from being separated from the death in front of me.

Over my wails, my father whispered a warning, “Do not resist, Y/N. When your hope dies, you will live.” 

The strange words captivated my mind, my head spinning as the purple began to fade from view. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to get sick again. My body jerked and when I opened my eyes, there were no more traces of purple energy in the room around me. 

Nathanos was no longer in front of me, but I felt his hand release its grip on my now damp neck. What had just happened?

My body felt like a train wreck. My throat was sore from screaming, my arms aching from where I tried to move away from my dead father.

_ My dead father _ , I considered. My father, who died on the Broken Shore, at the hands of Gul’dan. My father, who had been laid to rest in Stormwind, whose tomb I passed as I was dragged to the docks by the Horde.

I double checked the space in front of me, there was no sign of Varian or Anduin. There was no trace of the two other Horde grunts who had dragged them in. But it all felt so real.

My mind coming back to itself was interrupted by Blightcaller squatting down in front of me. He gently grasped my chin with one hand. My thoughts wrapped around his fingers. Gentle? Why was I associating him with softness?

He turned my head to either side slowly, seeming to take inventory of the wounds on my face. I didn’t have the mental or physical strength to meet his gaze. I stared emptily at the ground, my eyes fixed on where my father bled out in front of me moments before. I didn’t realize that Blightcaller was actually checking if I was still there mentally, not if my physical wounds could be mended. 

I used some of my remaining strength to see if we were alone in the room. Rokhan was nowhere to be found. I wondered at what point he decided to remove himself. Was it when I almost drowned in a foot of water? Or when I pleaded for my family? Did it even matter?

Baine stood at the very beginning of the room, his large shadow taking up the entrance. He looked worse for wear. I contemplated if it was a reflection of my current state within. 

I tried to catch Baine’s eye, but Nathanos directed my face softly back to his own. I blinked slowly, taking in his features as my mind tried to both mend itself and come to terms with whatever the hell just happened. He smiled, not a smirk, but it looked plastered on. Unnatural, like he had to really think about making his face contort in such a way.

“Are you still with me, Y/N?” he asked quietly, his voice missing its usual venom. I met his eyes, my mind unable to comprehend his strategy.

I nodded slightly in his hand. I didn’t feel like mouthing off. I swear I felt drool begin to fall from my lips. Or was it blood from my cheek? It didn’t matter. I didn’t try to wipe it either, my body too exhausted for my hands to even reach up and clean my face. 

Nathanos pulled a clean cloth from his satchel, wiping my face carefully. My cheek stung as he grazed the cut, and I winced backwards. I wasn’t sure if he meant to hurt me. The worried look in his eye tried to convince me that Nathanos Blightcaller meant me no harm. 

My mind tried to hold onto that thought, because deep down I knew something was there that was not right.  _ He is not my friend,  _ I tried to tell myself, but the way he was caring for me now put my psyche in a whirlwind.

I watched Baine’s shadow retreat from the doorway as Nathanos picked me up, one arm under my back, the under hooked under my knees, bridal style. One of my knees began to ache again, but I couldn’t remember why.

He carried me over to one of the offering bowls. With all my remaining strength, my body protested, clinging closer to Nathanos as we neared the water. I couldn’t go back to it, I couldn’t drown again. I couldn’t scream only to hear my wails echoed back to me in the ripples of the water. 

Nathanos seemed to sense this, his voice shushing me quietly. He maneuvered my form into one on his arms, using his free hand to dip down into the water and get a scoop. 

I flinched as he sprinkled water on my face, the cold bringing a faint memory of coldness near my lip. I couldn’t trace the chill to its source, and the memory faded from my mind. I sighed weakly as Nathanos began to wipe the water and blood from my face, cleaning me off with care. 

He repositioned me in his arms, my head nestling into his chest as I felt him begin to walk. The sounds around me got louder as we exited the shrine room, but I didn’t open my eyes to see where we were going. The air got hot again, reminding me of where we were in the temple. I expected the humidity of the Great Seal to cease as Nathanos carried me back to the cool of my cell, but it only intensified as the light behind my covered eyes grew brighter. 

Instead of feeling a lift drop, my body dropped ever so slightly as Nathanos began to descend several stairs. We kept walking and walking, the sun’s glare lessening. I assumed we walked into some shade. 

I heard more hustle and bustle around me, the only thing keeping me awake at the moment. I began to smell the salty sea air, as if we were back at a port. Nathanos continued to walk, his boots first stepping on stone, then crossing over to wooden planks. I heard wood creak and waves splash as Nathanos stopped for a moment, our bodies swaying. It felt like a boat.

“What have you got there, Blightcaller?” a gruff female voice asked nearby.

“A little prize I came across in my most recent trip to Stormwind. This Wrynn is mine to handle though, Garona. Keep your blades to yourself,” Nathanos answered. I recognized a hint of intimidation in his voice. The venom was back. 

My feelings registered protection, Nathanos saving me from the orc that killed my grandfather. My thoughts tried to fight this, wondering why I felt attached to someone who just claimed me as a prize. I gave up the debate with myself quickly though, as sleep threatened to overtake me, and as Nathanos continued walking. 

We descended another flight of wooden stairs, and I felt him ease a door open with his boot. He laid me down on what felt like a bed, the movement disrupting several specks of dust that flooded my nose. I sneezed, thinking about how the bed was hardly ever used. A place fit for a Forsaken. He left me there without another word, his exit signaled by the sound of the door closing behind him.

My thoughts began to pull me down into sleep, my exhausted body getting the better of me. A trail of a question sparked in my head as I began to fall asleep. 

_ What had Baine said to me back in my cell _ ? I wondered.  _ Something about Nathanos wanting to kill my hope.  _ I thought about my father, about Anduin. I thought back to the torches in the prison. They flickered in the dark, staying alight even as the shadows they cast loomed over them. 

I tried to comprehend what that meant for me before my body surrendered to the darkness, and my thoughts went silent within me once more.


	6. Hope Rising

Baine took one last look at the princess before heading quickly into the portal room. He passed both Rokhan and Thalyssra, who stood in the corner, discussing something quietly. They both looked to him as he approached the portals, none of them saying a word, but the tauren could tell the trio all felt the same about what had just happened. 

Baine tore his eyes away from them before stepping into the Orgrimmar portal. The humidity of Zuldazar was instantly replaced with the dry heat of the Horde capital, but Baine felt the damp moisture of the jungle remain on his fur as he made his way towards the Valley of Wisdom. He wondered if it was truly dew that clung to him, or if it was his sweat from watching Blightcaller do what he did to Wrynn that made him feel in need of a thorough wash.

Baine neglected to call for his mount, taking the journey to the northern part of Orgrimmar on his own two hooves. He blended into the crowd this way, even with his massive size, and walking allowed for him to put his thoughts together more freely. The noise of the Valley of Strength became a buzz around him, his own mind coming clearly through it all.

He passed by Grommash Hold, barely looking over. Baine knew Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner was within, likely planning her next genocide, or maybe even having a secret meeting with Nathanos. Every thought the tauren chieftain was having seemed to come back to Nathanos and Princess Wrynn. Hearing her screams echoing through the shrine room wouldn’t be gone from his ears for a long time. The guards stationed outside of the Hold nodded at him in recognition. He greeted them back, but pressed on. 

Some time later, Baine reached the Valley of Wisdom. He felt the peace of the spirits envelop him, his shoulders relaxing only slightly. The tauren made his way to a small hut nestled in the Valley, preparing to greet the owner. 

Thrall pushed back the leather curtain that covered the door, stepping out to greet the tauren.

“Baine. It is good to see you, my friend,” the orc stated, welcoming the chieftain inside. Baine shot a quick glance over each shoulder, trying to see if he had been followed. He was sure Thrall’s residence was no secret to Sylvanas and her Dark Rangers, but they didn’t need to know the extent of what went on in his home each time Baine arrived. The two men entered the hut, both ducking under the short entry, and Thrall replaced the leather door.

“You seem distressed, Baine. How are things in Zuldazar?” Thrall asked casually as Baine hugged Aggra hello and took a seat. The tauren sighed heavily.

“Things are fine with the Horde. The Zandalari have agreed to lend us their naval strength, as long as we assist them in their skirmishes throughout their continent. Blood trolls to the north, sand lizards to the west, and I hear rumors of a coup in Zuldazar itself,” Baine explained, knowing that was not everything he wanted to say to the orc.

“I see. But revolutions have not distressed you in the past. And I don’t believe they do now, my friend. What affects you so?” Thrall asked knowingly, trying to get the tauren to disclose what was really on his mind. Baine exhaled through his nose, his septum piercing jingling with the force of his breath.

“Anduin’s sister, Princess Y/N...the Blightcaller has her captive in Zuldazar. He…,” echoes of her screams filled Baine’s head again, “he tortured her in front of me and some of the other Horde commanders.” Baine refused to meet Thrall’s eyes while he remembered pushing the princess’ head underwater. He told himself it was to play the part. He hadn’t expected the consequences to affect him so harshly.

Thrall was silent for a long time. Baine knew a response was coming, so he didn’t bother asking for one from the orc. He looked up, watching as the orc observed Aggra playing with the children in the farther corner of the hut. He saw a soft smile appear on the older orc’s green face. It was comforting to see that peace come to Thrall. In that moment, Baine wanted some of it for himself.

“Both of us know the cruelty Sylvanas and her most devout champions can inflict. We both saw the same fire within Garrosh when he was Warchief.” Baine’s mind went to his father, Cairne, as he lay in the dirt, murdered by Garrosh in a tainted mak’gora. His heart ached in a long-sated grief, while a spark of fury tried to reignite itself within him.

“But when we focus on being afraid of their capabilities, we often neglect our own. When we see the evil and pain they inflict, our fear tells us they will always win. Baine,” Thrall instructed carefully, making sure their eyes were locked before continuing, “our fear is a liar. When we only see the darkness of the enemy, we forget the light that is always present. That’s what Sylvanas and the Blightcaller desire for us to do.”

Both men were silent for a moment, letting Thrall’s words sink in. Baine furrowed his brow, then spoke up.

“Then what am I supposed to do in the meantime? How do I—,” he began, feeling a tickle of sadness form in the back of his throat.

“Baine. I believe you already know what you must do. What a  _ true _ member of the Horde must do. The Alliance may be our enemies in yet another useless war, but that doesn’t mean you have to forsake honor as you pursue victory. Some things in life are bigger than war. Many things are more important.” The orc said the last part as he looked back to his family. Baine began to understand.

“You can start with Anduin. Even across enemy lines, you two remain friends. Loyal to each other. That is the light that the Blightcaller does not count on. Use it well.”

Baine nodded slowly, feeling an ounce of courage and peace return to him.

“Do you have some parchment I could use?” 

Thrall stood and gathered the letter materials for Baine, and watched as the tauren quickly sprawled out a message to the High King of the Alliance. Baine stood, thanked Thrall, and made his way to find an SI:7 agent he knew was stationed within the city.

Thrall watched from the entryway as the tauren chieftain left, a new confidence in himself. He saw a bit of his younger self within Baine, that desire for peace, desire for safety in a world that offered it few and far in between. He prayed to the elements that the tauren would achieve it, not only for himself, but for those that needed it around him.

~~

Mathias Shaw approached Anduin with a rolled up parchment in hand. The High King stood in Boralus Harbor, having just discussed with Jaina the importance of Kul Tiras rejoining the Alliance. Anduin pushed every thought regarding the earlier conversation to the side as he caught a glimpse of red wax sealing the paper. Baine.

He thanked Shaw quickly, before he broke open the seal and began to read. The tauren’s careful handwriting was more slanted in this letter, depicting a hidden urgency that wasn’t spelled out in the words on the parchment itself. Anduin read the words, then read the whole thing again, coming to the signatureless end twice. He didn’t need Baine’s name to verify that it was his information or hand; Anduin trusted the tauren and had come to recognize his work over the course of a few years now. He also knew why there was no name signed. No trace for those who would prefer to see the tauren chieftain buried for treason.

The content of Baine’s letter both settled and worried Anduin. He felt justified in his acquisition of the Kul Tiran fleet, of adding more power to the Alliance in order to continue on with yet another war. Baine’s words reminded him of the true enemy here: not the Horde, necessarily, but Sylvanas Windrunner, and any that sought after her twisted ideals rather than the Horde he had started to understand better, and had honestly begun to admire as his friendship with Baine grew. 

The worry followed right after, however, when he read what Baine shared about Y/N. Anduin could sense there were more details to the incident that the tauren was reluctant to discuss. Knowing what he did about Nathanos, the High King shuddered at what Baine chose to leave out. He sent a prayer up to the Light, asking for provision and protection over his little sister. Baine had written in one section:

_ The Blightcaller seems to react severely to any attempt the princess makes to defy him. She does so openly, inciting his rage even further. I don’t know how long she can last being, as he claims, “ _ disobedient _ ”, but I don’t foresee it being long. There is a certain savagery to his treatment of her when she disobeys him. I dare not worry you with the details here. I will do my best to encourage pliancy in Y/N, as much as it might seem counterintuitive.  _

_ Your sister is strong, Anduin. I know it, you know it, and so does Nathanos. I beg the Earth Mother to be with the princess in these trying times.  _

_ Hope rises.  _

Under these words, a different seal was stamped where a signature would be, this one an emblem of a totem, much like those seen in Thunder Bluff. Anduin ran his finger over the grooves of it absentmindedly, contemplating the contents of the letter. He thought of his sister, and as stubborn as she was, he missed their banter. His gut constricted at the image of Y/N giving Nathanos Blightcaller a run for his money, knowing her immaturity and headstrong tendencies had landed her in trouble before. But not with anyone as cruel as the Dark Ranger.

Mathias Shaw briefly interrupted his thoughts, asking how the King would have SI:7 proceed. Anduin told them to keep being on the lookout for more letters from his source. He instructed Shaw to get a small team together to scout around Zandalar, gathering what information they could about the Zandalari Empire and whatever current threats the trolls were facing. Something in Anduin told him they would need all the insight they could get, because infiltrating Zuldazar would be no easy task. And saving his sister would not be a mission the Alliance could treat lightly. 

Anduin thanked Shaw, dismissed the Spymaster, and went back to his thoughts as he stared out into the sea of Boralus Harbor. 

When they were younger, Y/N never failed to give him a hard time, forcing him to face the hard questions no one else would ask. But as much as they would bicker, Y/N could make him laugh like none other. She used to make a fool of herself in front of their father, much to the nobles dismay, but Varian would chuckle deeply at her display. Anduin would always find himself smiling when his sister would come around. She was not a priest or a paladin, but carried a sort of Light with her wherever she went. 

Anduin hoped that when they were reunited, when Y/N was safe back home in Stormwind Keep, that her humor and true sense of self would remain. He prayed Nathanos would leave that part of her be, because deep down, Anduin knew Y/N might not come back fully the same. He felt selfish for wanting to laugh again, for wanting a moment’s peace, but decided to turn that ache into a hardened resolve to end this war. 

Anduin Wrynn, High King of Stormwind, pictured his father standing in front of him, and what he might do in this situation. He found himself doing that a lot lately. The scar across Varian’s face wrinkled as the former king glared for a moment, before setting his features back into a look of determination, rather than anger. Anduin felt that same sense of duty wash over him. He remembered Baine’s words at the end of the letter.

_ Hope rises _ . Anduin would ensure it never stopped.


	7. Chain of Command

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who left such kind notes on the earlier chapters! I love to hear what you all think, so feel free to keep dropping a comment when you feel like it! :)

I was yanked awake by something cold and hard around my neck. I was lifted up out of the bed, dreams still fuzzy in my mind as my awakener forced me onto my feet, pulling me with a thick chain, that I realized had been connected down to my wrist shackles. I couldn’t even stand on my own. My knee was throbbing intensely, resisting any attempt I made to put pressure on it. I hopped awkwardly on my good leg, trying to keep up with the orc grunt that had me chained like a dog behind him. The links closed tighter around my throat as the grunt got further ahead of me. 

I choked out a, “Wait!” luckily making the soldier stop and begrudgingly support me up the stairs to the main deck. 

The sun was bright in my eyes as we arrived up top. Salty air assaulted my tongue as I got my bearings. I looked each way, noticing nothing but sea in all directions. I heard who I assumed to be the captain of the ship yelling out commands to the Horde crewmen around me, who rushed around the deck carrying out their orders. We headed up another set of stairs, with me only able to hobble up one step at a time. The orc next to me clearly would have rather been helping his crewmates than walking a gimpy princess up some stairs. I wondered if he even knew I was a princess, with this large chain fastened around my neck. I was beginning to forget it myself.

The orc led me over to a large command table that was situated near the back of the quarter deck. I looked up to the highest level, seeing an undead woman situated behind a large wooden wheel, her barked orders getting louder as I neared. 

Just then, a wooden door on my level opened, and Nathanos stormed out, with a large parchment rolled up in his hand. He stopped on the opposite end of the table, eyes locking with mine, then traveling to the basic leash on me. He smirked deeply, as always. He was enjoying this. The orc stopped supporting me, leaving me to catch myself on the edge of the table. My grip on the table made the chain between my neck and wrists taut, but the orc behind me maintained the hold on the chain as he stepped back, leaving me to stand uncomfortably on one leg as I balanced my head upright precariously, trying not to cut off my own air or lose my footing.

“Someone must not have slept well, hm? Nightmares keep you awake?” he drawled as he unraveled the parchment onto the table. 

“It’s going to take a lot more than some water to keep me up at night, Blightcaller,” I spat back. The orc pulled back on the chain suddenly; a warning shot. My fingertips clung to the table with all their might.

“Oh, princess—well, should I be calling you that while you’re on  _ my _ leash?—,” he giggled darkly from across the way, “I’ll keep that in mind.” His smile dropped as his attentions turned to the map. Sweat began to form between my skin and the chain, my body getting hot while standing in the bright sun.

“Now to the real business. Your brother seems to be successful in his acquisition of support from Kul Tiras,” he walked slowly around the table towards me, “which means the Horde needs to make some improvements of our own on the continent.” Blightcaller stopped right in front of me, close enough that if he tapped my shoulder I would lose my hold and tumble backwards. 

He leaned down into my ear before whispering, “I wonder whose boots he had to lick to get all of that fleet? Proudmoore’s maybe?” I ignored his jeer, staring straight forward as he straightened back up and continued slowly around the table.

“Then again,” Blightcaller started as he was almost across from me again, “he’s been doing that for years, hasn’t he?” That one struck a nerve. I let go of the table, moving my hands quickly back to the chain behind me. I pulled forward harshly, feeling the orc stumble just enough to give me slack to lunge at Nathanos. I dove at him off my good leg, my fingertips just brushing the edge of his armor before I was violently wrenched back by the orc. Blightcaller didn’t even flinch.

The orc drew me up by the leash, pulling me away from the table and back towards his position. I struggled for air as my head was forced upwards by the orc’s hold on the chain.

“There she is! That’s the pet I came across in Stormwind. So fiercely loyal, are we? We’ll be putting that to good use in Stormsong Valley,” Nathanos jeered, pulling a dagger from his belt and impaling it onto the map swiftly.   
“Now, Wrynn, I’m going to need you to do a few things for me when we arrive. You see, some of your insolent Alliance champions have attempted to overtake Warfang Hold. You’re going to be a sort of bargaining chip, yet again. But I’m thinking there may be other uses for you yet.” Just as he finished talking, a loud signal of land was called from the captain a deck above. I turned to look, seeing the green hills and cliffs of what I assumed was Stormsong Valley approaching quickly. 

Nathanos must have commandeered the chain from the orc as I looked to the horizon, because I was pulled back suddenly, stumbling into Blightcaller’s chest. He again rasped a command into my ear.

“You will use your magic exactly when and where I say to, do you understand me?” The chain constricted my neck, barely allowing me to give a response. I lifted up my wrists, trying to remind Blightcaller that the shackles prevented me from casting.

“I know the elf disabled them back during our little demonstration in the shrine room, pet,” he answered.  _ Disabled? _ I thought to myself.  _ I’ve been able to cast all this time? _ My stomach flared in anger at myself, frustrated that I had failed to use the magic that was literally at my fingertips. Nathanos must have picked up on my anger.

The boat lurched violently as we came to port. I heard the Horde soldiers prepping to go ashore on the decks below me.

“Oh, afraid you’ve missed your chance to escape? Think you would have thrown a few fireballs at me and jumped a portal back home to Stormwind?” Nathanos mocked, keeping my ear close to his face with the chain. 

“Burn….you…,” I choked out, my animosity starting to heat up my hands. Now that I knew I could do it, I thought it would be a good time to practice on Nathanos. 

An electric shock tore through my body the next instant. The lightning seemed to touch every nerve within me, causing me to spasm against Nathanos, then fall to the ground limply as he dropped me when the charges ceased. He leaned down next to me, tutting and shaking his head.

“That’s not how a princess should say thank you for getting her magic back, is it?” he asked incredulously, holding what must have been some sort of control that controlled the electricity in the chain. It looked like a work of goblin engineering, with several switches and buttons covering the remote. It had to be goblin-made. No gnome I knew would ever steep to such a brute invention.

I glared at him as I wheezed, trying to get any air that I could back into my lungs. I started to answer angrily, but Nathanos touched a button and the electricity assaulted me once again. He let it rage through me for several seconds, as my body started to curl in on itself to get away from the searing pain. He turned it off, then looked at me blankly like he hadn’t almost just electrocuted me to death.

“T-thank you,” I muttered from the floor, my muscles spasming every so often. I tried to sigh and relax my body, but the incoming breath was interrupted by yet another electric shock. I screamed loudly in pain, tasting metal on my tongue, all of my nerves on fire again. Nathanos turned it off, eyes still locked on mine.

“ _ Louder _ !” he bellowed into my face. I felt some spittle connect with the streams of sweat that covered my forehead. I began to cry as the pain following the shock refused to subside for the moment.

“Thank you!” I screamed back, dissolving into tears as Nathanos stood, hauling me up with him. He carried me as he had after the shrine room. I didn’t force myself away. 

Nathanos held me all the way off of the  _ Banshee’s Wail _ , carrying me up the lush green hills of Stormsong Valley. I listened to his boots squish into the soft earth, and to my chain jingling lightly as it dragged on the ground, watching the ship grow smaller behind Nathanos as he trudged upwards. 

The sounds of the dirt were soon drowned out by war cries and metal clashing together. My tears dried on my face from the breeze that coursed steadily through the Valley. I turned my head towards the direction Nathanos was taking me, seeing thick smoke and bright orange embers rising up from the other side of the hill. Blightcaller made no attempt to speed up, letting several of the Horde troops that joined us on the ship jump into the fray. 

Blightcaller dropped me like a sack once we reached the top of the hill, my body thudding into the dirt, and I vaguely thought about how the ground wasn’t as soft as I had imagined. Sitting up with a huff, I took in the scene before me. 

Warfang Hold was a sight to behold. The red and brown orcish buildings contrasted heavily with the lush green of the Valley grass they were built on. I had never been to Orgrimmar, but I imagined that this encampment, even while half of it was in flames, took after the capital in every way. The sounds of warfare surrounded me now, and I watched as Horde and Alliance soldiers collided with their axes and shortswords. The Horde’s deep red tabards with their black emblems were quickly overwhelming the blue and silver armor the Alliance wore. I wasn’t watching a battle, I realized. I was watching a slaughter.

Nathanos tugged upwards on the chain, making me struggle to my feet, still having to hobble on my good leg. I continued to watch the violence play out before me, several Alliance soldiers falling quickly. 

“Extinguish the fires,” Blightcaller instructed, and I turned slightly to the nearest one. But about 10 yards away, I watched as a troll prepared to impale a human, who was on her back, trying to scramble away helplessly. I couldn’t just stand there.

A thick wave of water came crashing out of my hands before I could give it a second thought, surrounding the troll completely. My body surged with adrenaline, and I felt a sense of power again after not having used my magic in some time. I lifted the troll into the air, trapping him in an orb of water, watching as he began to struggle for air. My rage held him there. It felt like my pain and fear were manifesting themselves into magic, the orb around the troll expanding larger and larger. The troll’s legs starting to kick with less and less strength. He was drowning. 

_ Drowning _ . The feeling of my head being held underwater, the silent screams beneath the waves, the empty ache in my stomach after throwing up so much water. The shrine room came clear into my mind, my nightmares playing out while I was awake, only this time I was the one inflicting pain and fear. What was I doing to him? 

I dropped my hands and the orb exploded instantly, sending water flying in every direction, and the troll fell onto his hands and knees on the ground. He coughed and vomited violently, expelling so much water from his stomach and lungs. I looked over to the human I had been trying to save, who just watched me with wide, fearful eyes as she remained on the ground. 

Blightcaller flicked the switch again, making my back arch in agony. He kept me upright with a tight hold on the chain, but somehow he was not affected by the shock. If only I could wrap it around his little throat—

The electricity turned off, and the commotion around me had quieted. I panted as I looked around cautiously, seeing everyone in Warfang Hold paying attention to the altercation. My chain clinked lightly as Nathanos walked around to the front of me. 

“Alliance soldiers! I believe we have something your beloved king has been looking for! Surrender now and return back to Stormwind with your princess!” Blightcaller yelled clearly into the silence.  _ Return to Stormwind? _ Was Blightcaller really about to let me go? My gut told me no, even as my heart fluttered at the possibility.

I watched the recognition begin to dawn on the Alliance’s faces. The few of them who were still alive seemed to think for a moment, before dropping their weapons into the dirt. Nathanos waved his free hand once, signalling for the remaining troops to be gathered together. The six of them were herded to the middle of the Hold, forced onto their knees by nearby Horde soldiers. Their eyes seemed to take in my state, a thick chain around my neck, filthy robes and a raised gash along my cheek that was still healing. I hardly looked like royalty. But that wasn’t important right now. One of the soldiers in the front, an older human, began to speak.

“We laid down our arms, undead. Release the princess and we will leave without another issue.” His eyes looked up at Nathanos strongly, no hint of fear in his face. The greying hairs along the sides of his head told me he had been doing this for a long time. I hoped that his courage would show itself in me someday. 

“Ah, but what fun is there without issues?” Blightcaller asked teasingly, but I knew there was no humor in his words. This was a threat.

“You see, I know I may have promised you safe exit—with the princess, no less—but considering how brash your attack was on this Hold, how  _ arrogant _ your Alliance never fails to act...I hereby rescind my offer,” he looked to the Horde soldiers surrounding the six, “kill them.” My eyes widened, but deep down I chided myself for being surprised that Nathanos was being cruel.

“Wait! Blightcaller—,”

“What if you take us in exchange for her? You let her go, let her make it to Brennadam in the south—,” the older human in front of us interrupted. 

“No! You will not willingly put your soldiers in the hands of this mon—,” I shot back, before Nathanos reminded me of the special feature on the chain. My body seized forward in pain as electricity filled me again, forcing me to my knees beside the Dark Ranger. He turned it off before nodding to the soldier to continue. I watched his eyes widen slightly, Nathanos’ calm execution of pain possibly making him reconsider the trade, but the older man began to speak again anyway.

“My apologies, Princess Wrynn, but your safety is of the utmost importance to the King. I believe this is for the good of the Alliance, miss.” His eyes now carried a certain sadness to them that I had not seen before. As I breathed as deeply as I could on my knees, I saw the sense of duty and loyalty ingrained within him that only a seasoned veteran could portray.

“My life is not worth even one of you, soldier.” I flinched as I prepared myself for the shock. None came. I almost felt more pain at the fact that I didn’t even know the man’s name who was volunteering his life for my own.

“I fought with your father against the Legion, Princess Wrynn. Any child of his is worth countless lives of the Alliance.” His eyes betrayed not a single ounce of regret or falsity. My chest surged both with pride about the sacrifice of my father, and with anguish of the sacrifice this man was willing to make for me. The sacrifice these six men and women were willing to make for me, I realized, as the troops behind him began to nod their heads in agreement.

Blightcaller broke up the moment with a thick spit to the ground.

“Pah! The sentiment of the living. A warmth I have never missed,” he jeered, pulling me back to my feet by the chain.

“I doubt you ever felt it in life, Nathanos,” I quipped, feeling satisfied by the growl it earned me from the undead. 

“Your childish hubris will cost you your life one day, Wrynn. I hope to be the one who cashes it in for you.” His red eyes searched my face for a moment, then slowly he turned back to the six Alliance kneeling in front of him. He must have had an idea. That was never good.

“Or better yet, it will cost you the lives of others! I accept your trade, Captain,” he leaned in to try to read the human’s nameplate, “Peake, is it? I now release Princess Wrynn from her captivity into the hands of the 7th Legion, and in return, I have complete control over the six remaining Alliance in Warfang Hold,” Nathanos announced with a fake regality. He unlocked the chain from around my neck, undid the shackles from my wrists, then shoved me to the side.

“You’ve best get moving to Brennadam if you wish to arrive there before dark, Wrynn. Or before I change my mind about the terms again.” He glared deeply into my eyes, shooing me with his gloved hand. I looked back to Captain Peake, who nodded once at me before turning his attention back to the Dark Ranger. 

My hands and neck were free, but none of this felt like freedom. It felt as if part of me was still chained, still attached not to Nathanos, but now to the soldiers who were exchanging their lives for mine. I could imagine what Blightcaller had in mind for them, but the nightmares threatened to come rushing in again and I stopped myself. I turned slowly and began to limp out of the other entrance to the Hold. I had almost made it to the exit when it happened.

A desperate, “No!” sounded from behind me, followed by six swings of axes that echoed a wet collide as they hit their mark. I turned as I listened, finding six dead Alliance sprawled in the dirt in front of Nathanos, fresh blood on the Horde soldiers’ weapons that surrounded them. That beast.

“No!” I screamed, making my way back to the murders as quickly as I could. I ignored the pain in my knee, my stomach becoming nauseous at what just happened.   
“Back so soon, are w—,” Blightcaller snarked, before I sent spell after spell directly at his face. He dodged them easily, as if bored with my retaliation. His smirk only fueled my attack more. Nathanos Blightcaller would die for what he did to those soldiers. 

“What did you expect, Wrynn?” he shouted over the bursts of fire and frost I was driving his way, “Did you really think I would keep those idiot soldiers alive for anything other than my own entertainment? You must be as stupid as your fool brother!” He was taunting me into more rage. He wanted my anger, my vulnerability, my grief over the deaths of the six, my agony over the last week of my life. I would give it to him. All of it.

I paused my assault for a moment to gather my strength. I channeled all of my energy, all of my fire magic, frost magic, arcane magic into one final push. My body was lifted up as it struggled to maintain the hold over the power I was creating. I forced myself to take in a deep breath. I released.

The magic exploded brightly in a thick beam of blue, orange, and purple that coursed out from my hands. It surged towards Nathanos faster than he could dodge, connecting into his chest. I heard his short howl of pain before he ducked down. I hoped it burned. 

The beam continued on beyond Nathanos, striking one of the Horde buildings along the far edge of the Hold that had not been damaged in battle. It exploded instantly, sending a shockwave through the Hold, causing some Horde grunts to stumble. I saw some of them ready their weapons to charge me when a sharp pang split through my stomach. A quick flash of dark purple wrapped itself through the beam I was channeling before I fell back to the ground as the pain interrupted me. I looked to my stomach, seeing a thin, black arrow sticking out of me. 

Nathanos was replacing his bow behind his back as he stalked over to me. I tried to sit up, but his plate boot on my chest and the ache from the wood protruding from my middle stopped me. I felt warm blood begin to pool out from me, dripping down the sides of my stomach inside my robes. As the warmth left me, I realized I could very well be breathing my last here. An arrow in my gut and Nathanos Blightcaller standing over me. I wouldn’t be the first to go this way, and I morbidly figured I wouldn’t be the last.

“Are you so  _ eager _ to join your Alliance compatriots in death, Wrynn? Yearning to meet with your father again?” Blightcaller pressed his boot deeper into my chest. It felt like it was about to cave in.

“Unfortunately for both of us, I cannot let that little display just go to waste by you dying. Nor can I let your power fall back into your brother’s hands. I don’t think he’d know what to do with you if he knew what.... _ potential _ you possessed.” His hands became enveloped in ghostly black and purple smoke, like what had invaded my mind in the shrine room. The arrow dissolved from existence, fading into the smoke that was dancing around Blightcaller’s fingers. I felt my flesh begin to stitch itself back together, but not in the same way that the troll had healed me back in Zuldazar. The older gash in my face began to close as well, and I felt my knee jerk back into the right place. I gasped in both pain and relief as the aches all over my body slowly faded, but at a cost. It felt like something dark had trapped itself inside of me, some piece of foul magic. Nevertheless, my strength began to return to me. 

“What have you done to me?” I croaked out as I sat up, crawling back slightly on my hands. The smoke around Blightcaller’s hands dissipated as the Dark Ranger squatted down to meet my eye. He grabbed my chin with his gloved hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on my face. I wrenched my head back from his disgusting touch.

“The least you could say is thank you, Wrynn.” I flinched as I prepared to be hit with electricity again, before remembering that blasted chain was no longer wrapped around my neck. Nathanos smiled darkly.

~~

We arrived back in Dazar’alor the same night. I had spent the returning boat ride back in the room below deck, alone on the bed with my thoughts. Sleep wasn’t even a consideration. I knew my dreams would be plagued with the echoing plea I heard Captain Peake cry just before he was murdered for my sake. Just before I caused the death of six, loyal Alliance soldiers. 

I couldn’t find anything to say to myself that would ease the guilt. I had walked away as they put themselves in harm’s way for me. I had physically turned my back on them as they offered their lives to the worst man I had ever come into contact with. He wasn’t even a man. He was little more than a monster. But nevertheless, I knowingly offered my own people into that monster’s open hands. For what, an attempt at freedom? Even if I ever made it home I knew I would never truly feel free. 

Officer Brady. Captain Peake. The remaining five soldiers whose names I didn’t even learn. Names I would never get to learn. All dead because of me. Of my  _ insolence _ .

I blinked back into my mind.  _ Insolence _ . I had never described myself as such, even in my most self-critical moments. Were my thoughts playing tricks on me? Or had I begun to hate myself so fiercely within a matter of days? 

I thought back once again to the torches that I had studied back in my cell. They flickered and danced, but never went out. Their shadows never faded either. I resonated with that, but for why, I didn’t know. Some resonances never could be explained.

The ship bumped into the docks, and I heard tons of heavy footsteps walking overhead as the Horde prepared to disembark. I stood up, sensing I should be headed upstairs as well. 

I opened the door of the bedroom, then made my way to the upper deck. It was nice to walk comfortably on my own two legs again. I felt around my neck gently, double checking that my throat was free of the chain. Nathanos had not even threatened to put it back on me, but my paranoia had me check anyway.

When I made it to the main deck, I found Nathanos talking with Garona Halforcen. They both watched me approach, the orc raising her eyebrows and making a comment to the Dark Ranger under her breath. Nathanos smirked proudly, but because he did this so often, I couldn’t try to figure out what Garona had remarked. Besides, it didn’t feel worth it.

Nathanos nodded goodbye to the orc, then joined the stream of Horde that was exiting the  _ Banshee’s Wail _ . I felt compelled to follow. I entered the crowd as well, catching up to Nathanos as he headed back towards the temple. I almost asked him where we were headed, but then something in my mind told me I would be in Orgrimmar soon. How could I possibly know?

The question faded from my mind in the next moment, my attention on the torch-lit temple looming over us. We climbed the steps all the way up, then headed straight for the portal room once we made it to the Great Seal. I saw Baine standing at the command table that overlooked the Great Seal, who noticed me right as I followed Nathanos out of view. The sight of the tauren didn’t bring a sense of comfort to me anymore. I felt an ounce of hostility fester within me. Baine had participated in Nathanos’ demonstration. He had left me in the shrine room. He had left me in my cell, when he had every opportunity to bring me back to Anduin. Baine had failed me. I didn’t need his help.

An image of the gates of Orgrimmar shimmered in the portal in front of us. Nathanos waved me in first. I stepped through, feeling my whole being pulled through the Twisting Nether, before my foot hit a steel-plated ground. The rest of me followed, and suddenly I found myself staring at the Horde capital face to face. I had been right about Warfang Hold bearing some resemblance, but where I thought the encampment in Stormsong Valley was grand, Orgrimmar put it completely to shame. Even in the dark of night, I could see a huge building right in the center of the valley, which I could only assume was their equivalent of a Keep. It rose easily 100 feet into the air, a reminder of the power of the Horde in Kalimdor. 

Nathanos appeared next to me, wordlessly walking further into the city, expecting me to follow. I did my best to stick close to him, as I still had my white royal robes on full display, and Orgrimmar’s inhabitants were not all back home in their beds. I got several unkind looks from the Horde champions that surrounded me. I was obviously not welcome. 

We cut to the right, leading to some smaller buildings that lined the large ridge that acted as the city’s walls. Nathanos blazed through the crowds quickly, but with the same pride he had portrayed when he had dragged me by the leg through the Great Seal. Orcs and goblins alike parted for the Dark Ranger, then watched me coldly as I tried to keep in step. 

We arrived in what I assumed was an inn, with hammocks and cots lining every inch of the walls in the front room. There was a small bar to the right as we entered, which Nathanos walked up to. He greeted the innkeeper, who handed him a small key. He waved me further in, leading me to the other end of the circular building, to a door which he unlocked with the key. 

It opened up into a small but substantial washroom, candle lit, with an inground bath and several racks of soaps and towels. I stepped inside, but Nathanos did not follow. I turned to face him.

“I will not have your current disgusting stench remain while in the presence of my Lady, pet. Clean yourself well, and do it hastily. I will not keep her waiting.” He promptly shut the door in my face, and I heard the key turn the lock back into place. I turned back to the room, walking over to the edge of the bath, turning the faucet on. As the basin filled, I searched the soaps for one I liked. Some smelled like burnt firewood, mageroyal, and one was like fresh grass. I ended up choosing the one that smelled like a recent rainstorm. It reminded me of home. I wanted to feel cleansed, not just of the dirt and blood on my skin, but from the guilt of my captivity. I figured a rainstorm could do the trick.

I turned off the water, then double checked that the door was locked. I muttered an Invisibility spell over the door, in case any cracks in the wood of the door were large enough for prying eyes to peek through. Casting the spell made me think to teleport away. It would be easy. The room was locked, I was alone, I could make it back to Stormwind in a matter of moments. This was my chance.

Just before I started casting, my gut wrenched painfully inside of me. I needed to stay in the room. Nathanos had instructed me to bathe and do so hastily. I was only wasting time by considering escape.

I peeled off my filthy royal robes, now more of a brownish-yellow than the pristine white they had been when I put them on in Stormwind Keep all that time ago. I stepped gingerly into the warm bath water, grabbing the soap I had picked out. My muscles tensed, then relaxed as I nestled further in, adjusting to the temperature. I lathered the soap onto me, cleaning off the dirt and grime that had collected on my skin over the past week or so. The rainstorm smelt amazing, making me feel like I was back in my own chambers taking a relaxing bath.

I took a deep breath when it came time to wash my hair. I would have to go under. I lathered my hands with soap, scrubbing my scalp in earnest, feeling my fingers dig out all the dust and oil that had gathered. Once I felt satisfied that it had all been brought to the surface, and all the stink on me had been replaced with a rainstorm, I plugged my nose and ducked under the water.

I pulled the soap out of my hair as quickly as I could, feeling the suds rise back to the top of the bath as I rinsed my hair. I kept my eyes tightly closed, trying to stay focused on the fact that I was in a bath, that I was doing a normal task, that no one else was in the room with me. I was not being held under. I could come back up whenever I wanted.

I breached with a loud gasp, wiping away any remaining bubbles from my hair and skin. I didn’t want to keep Nathanos waiting any longer, so I climbed quickly out of the basin and grabbed a towel. The cloth was clearly meant for more...tauren sized characters, so my whole body was enveloped in it comfortably. 

It then occurred to me that I didn’t have clean robes to change into. I heard the key turn suddenly, Nathanos reappearing. He looked me up and down slowly, causing me to wrap myself tighter in the huge towel with a shudder. With nothing more than a leer in response, he handed me a set of dark robes with a pair of simple boots on top, and closed the door again. I changed quickly, noting that the robes and shoes somehow fit me perfectly, dried my hair with a warming spell, then knocked on the door.

Nathanos pulled the door open wide, ushering me out before returning the key to the innkeeper and departing from the inn. I followed him once again, catching up to him as we neared the large building in the middle of the valley. Two elite looking guards stood on either side of the entryway, straightening up once they saw the Banshee’s Champion approach. Their eyes went next to me, narrowing slightly, but not raising a word of protest as I was under Nathanos’ protection. 

Hmph. Protection. Something about telling myself I was being protected by Blightcaller felt completely against my nature. I began to think about how he had provided a warm bath to me, new clothes, and had carried me to the bed on the  _ Banshee’s Wail _ when I could no longer walk. He was protecting me. Still, some deep part of my mind tried to remind me that the Dark Ranger who had carried me when I couldn’t walk was the same one who had caused my inability to do so. That was not protection.

We entered deeper into the building, which I learned to be Grommash Hold when I heard one of the orcs complain, “A human in Grommash Hold? Pah! Grom would be rolling in his grave.” I ignored the comment, more for the orc’s sake than my own. Nathanos led me into yet another large, circular room, which was lined with what I assumed were representatives for all of the races of the Horde. The Dark Ranger waltzed confidently in, soaking in the attention he got from his fellow Horde members seeing the Princess of Stormwind following dutifully behind him. He stopped before a large throne before bowing deeply, deeper than I had ever seen any noble bow to my brother. I wondered what the implications of his gesture were.

I looked up to see two more dark crimson eyes staring back at me, but these ones on a different ashen face. Sylvanas Windrunner stared down at me coldly, eyes raking over my dark robes and freshly dried hair. I felt suddenly compelled to bow myself, although I didn’t think the Warchief deserved it.

“So you are the prisoner my champion has so fervently described to me.” The undead elf’s voice echoed strangely, much like Nathanos’ always did. I didn’t know what to say or do in response to that statement, so I just stood there, staring at the Warchief blankly. I could feel all the eyes in the room on me, but I didn’t make a move.

“Your brother, the little lion, has been quite specific in his requests for your release,” she paused a minute, cocking her head to the side lazily, before saying, “Y/N.” It irked me to hear Sylvanas call me by my first name. It felt like an invasion of privacy almost. I had heard countless stories of her, but the Warchief claiming to be on a first name basis with me was just off. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t see the point in keeping a hostage for so long, besides certain... _ stubborn _ types like that Deathweaver,” she started, shooting a look to Nathanos before getting up from the throne and walking down towards me, “I prefer to end their lives promptly. They serve so much more eagerly in death.” Her words coursed over me coldly, a wry smile spreading across her undead face as she began to circle me. I had heard rumors, but perhaps Nathanos and Sylvanas really were meant for each other. They liked to play the same games with their prey.

“Nathanos assures me you will be much more useful in life, however. Interesting. But I trust he will do what is required to ensure that you will serve me. You all will, in the end.” She whispered the last part directly in my ear, her breath warm as her cheek radiated only the chill of the grave onto my own skin.


	8. A King's Preparations

Anduin stood aboard the  _ Wind’s Redemption _ , overlooking the command table while he listened to the other Alliance commanders discuss their plans for Dazar’alor. He could physically hear Telaamon, Mekkatorque, Jaina, and Genn all strategizing, but even with his eyes on the map of Zuldazar below him, Anduin’s mind was somewhere else entirely.

The High King had known that driving a rift between the Horde and the Zandalari would be necessary even before Y/N had been abducted. He had known that any attempt Sylvanas Windrunner made to strengthen her forces could very well lead to the end of the Alliance. But as Anduin listened to the plans to draw their enemies into Nazmir in order drive the dagger into the trolls’ capital while they were away, he couldn’t help but wonder where rescuing his sister fit into all of this. Anduin knew he would have to take to the front lines, he would have to lead his Alliance into battle, just as his father would before him. Just as his sister would by his side, had she been there. Leading the pack meant Anduin couldn’t break apart from any of the commotion that would come tomorrow in order to search for Y/N. He needed someone who could slip away easily, who could go unnoticed, but whose absence was perhaps more valuable than their presence.

Anduin stopped feigning his engagement in the strategizing, instead turning around and waving over Mathias Shaw from the other end of the ship. The Spymaster walked over quickly, the two men meeting halfway. Anduin noticed a brief lull in the conversation over the command table behind him, but it picked up moments later. He trusted they would give him a summary of the plans later.

“Do you need something, Your Majesty?” Shaw asked professionally. Anduin wanted to roll his eyes. He knew Shaw was being serious, but having so many men and women that were several years his senior refer to him as their Majesty felt like an unnecessary formality. He discarded the annoyance and answered Shaw.

“Yes, Mathias, I do,” Anduin took a breath before continuing, trying to put together an explanation, “When our forces arrive in Dazar’alor, I need you to ignore any other command you may have been given or will be given about engaging the Horde. I need you to slip away discreetly, and go recover the princess.” Shaw took in this special request with a simple nod, before asking for more detail.

“My agents had previously informed me that she was moved to Orgrimmar recently, but Nathanos Blightcaller will ensure she is in Dazar’alor for when the rumored attack on Nazmir takes place. Where do you think he will keep her?” Anduin tried to remember if Baine’s correspondence had mentioned anything about where Y/N had been held originally, while also wondering why she had been brought to Orgrimmar. His sister, so much closer to Sylvanas’ reach there than she had been in Zuldazar. Anduin almost was thankful that the boat that escaped Stormwind Harbor so long ago had travelled first to Zandalar rather than Kalimdor.

Shaw politely cleared his throat, making the High King realize he had become lost in his thoughts for a moment. 

“My apologies. I can remember Baine mentioning her holding cell was in the very bottom floor of the pyramid. Zandalari guards standing watch every moment. But I wonder if they’ll be relocated for the assault.” The two men were silent for a moment, deep in thought.

“I think it would be beneficial for you to put a small team together. The base of the pyramid is enormous, and one man searching through the whole place would take far more time than I’m afraid you’ll have. Bring two of your best companions, and—,”

“What’s this about searching the whole pyramid for? Is His Majesty on the hunt for a secret treasure?” Flynn Fairwind butted in, leaning an arm on Shaw’s shoulder casually and smiling warmly at the High King. Anduin watched as Shaw closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, probably not wanting to showcase annoyance in front of his king.

“A treasure of sorts, Fairwind. I assume you’re interested?” Shaw inquired, shrugging the former pirate’s arm off of his shoulder. 

“Of course I’m interested! What are we after?” 

“Princess Y/N Wrynn of Stormwind, Fairwind.” Anduin said this bluntly, trying to get the conversation back to the seriousness he felt it deserved. Flynn immediately stood up straighter as his eyes widened, like he was remembering that he was in the presence of a king.

“Will it be dangerous, sir?”

“It may prove difficult to make your way past the Zandalari guards down in the cell, but once you reach my sister, I’m sure you’ll find a way out,” Anduin answered simply, noticing the glint in Fairwind’s eye. He couldn’t seem to contain his answer any longer, dropping his perfect posture bit in the next moment.

“That sounds perfect! Sneaking past the guards, saving the prin—,” Fairwind began to chatter excitedly.

“And if we don’t find a way out?” Shaw interjected, his face and voice much more serious than his counterpart.

“With everything else going on, I would prefer that we assume you’ll make it out safely. Once you recover my sister, take her back to the Zandalari Harbor where our ships will be waiting. I’ll ensure Jaina has a mage stationed there specifically to teleport you all back to Stormwind.” Anduin said this all confidently, but his gut told him it would not be so simple. A veteran spy like Shaw would already understand this. The Spymaster twirled the end of his moustache through his fingertips.

“I’ll recruit our third companion and prepare a plan for when we reach Dazar’alor. I will—,” Shaw started.

“ _ We _ will,” Fairwind reminded the Spymaster, who almost rolled his eyes.

“Fine, yes,  _ we _ will recover Princess Y/N, Anduin. Whatever it takes.” The Spymaster nodded once to Anduin, who smiled sadly back at him.

“I trust you will. Bring her home, Shaw.” Anduin’s last request sounded almost like a plea, even from a king. At that point, however, he didn’t care. It  _ was _ a plea. His special mission for Shaw was a desperate attempt to get his sister back safely. He knew it was a long shot, he knew that many things could happen or go wrong for Shaw and his companions in the pyramid while the rest of the Alliance would be taking Dazar’alor from above. But even if there was a sliver of a chance that Y/N would be saved from the Horde, saved from Nathanos Blightcaller, then Anduin would take that chance. He only hoped that his risk now would end up in return later. Only time would tell.

Anduin turned and headed back to the command table, his plate armor weighing heavily on his shoulders. The other commanders looked at him expectantly, then filled him in on the rest of the strategy for the next day’s assault when he didn’t offer an explanation for his departure. 

Anduin Wrynn was preparing his troops for a war. He didn’t know what tomorrow would hold, but he figured he needed to prepare himself, too. Y/N would either be home safe tomorrow night, or she wouldn’t. The High King of the Alliance needed to be ready for both.


	9. A Princess's Discipline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! This one took a few tries to get it just how I wanted. Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy :-)

Sylvanas turned and sauntered back to her throne, and in the corner of my eye I could see the other Horde members occupying the Hold watch her every step. She sat back down in the massive chair, her small elven frame almost swallowed by the seat meant from an orc. Or a tauren. My heart clenched slightly at how all this might be different had Baine been seated there. Had even that troll, Vol’jin, had been seated above me. Had I been looking at two white tusks, rather than two crimson eyes staring back at me.  _ Vol’jin appointed Sylvanas for a reason. She is the rightful Warchief _ , I thought to myself. Since when did I care about who led the Horde? My mind felt intruded upon.

“I trust you’ll ensure her compliance, Nathanos?” Sylvanas asked, turning her attention back to her champion. Beside me, I saw the Dark Ranger puff his chest out a bit. He must like it when she addressed him by name. Or the fact that she was leaving the pleasure of my servitude in his hands. I scoffed lightly. He responded with a large hand wrapped into the back of my hair, yanking me close to him once more. My scalp burned uncomfortably, but my chest burned with indignation.  _ It will all be easier if I just respect him, Y/N.  _ Even my thoughts were against me. I couldn’t go anywhere and be free of him.

“Your trust will be well-placed, my Lady,” Nathanos assured her, and Sylvanas nodded once. With that, the undead man began to lead me out of the Hold. He kept the hold in my hair all the way out of the building, and even as we made our way down the caverns deeper into the city. 

Nathanos pulled me down, down, down into the caverns, purple lights replacing the deep blue of the night. We eventually made it to giant wooden doors, which two orc grunts began to open as Nathanos approached. They creaked open, their aches echoing off the high walls of the cave below Orgrimmar. I vaguely remembered my father and Anduin telling of Orgrimmar when they had returned home after Garrosh Hellscream’s escape from the depths. Something about giant underground rooms beneath the city, how they become a bit of a maze to escape from once you lose your bearings. I tried to remember the turns we made while we traveled further into the giant rooms.  _ Why bother?  _ the voice in my head asked,  _ There’s no point in running. No point in defying him. _ I physically shook my head, trying to clear my mind of a voice that sounded like my own but was only saying things I would never think. It earned me a sharper burn on my scalp as Nathanos held me tighter by the hair.

We eventually stopped in one of the giant rooms, which was mostly empty save for two large wooden poles about 10 feet apart from each other, each with iron chains hanging down loosely from them. I began to understand. Compliance wasn’t going to be requested. It would be demanded.

Nathanos shoved me to the ground in the middle of the chains, standing there as I got myself back to my feet. He grabbed my wrist, methodically capturing it within the iron clasp, then doing the same with the other, keeping his gaze on me the entire time. I didn’t look away. He’d have to earn it.

I stood there, my arms pulled apart from me loosely. I began to take a few deep breaths in through my nose, out through my mouth, just to stay collected. Nathanos walked around me, kicking my legs out by the back of my knees. The chains pulled tightly due to the new angle. I stared straight ahead, ignoring the slight discomfort in my arms. He would have to earn a sound of pain.

“Time and again you have refused obedience to me, and therefore have refused to submit to the Dark Lady. I have given you several opportunities to do as I say, but each time you respond with profane defiance.” Nathanos began to walk around me again, mirroring Sylvanas’ movements just earlier. I said nothing.

“My only question is,” he began, stopping in front of me, “why?” 

I found a spot on his armor right in my eyeline, and it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. Far more interesting than answering Nathanos’ questions. He chuckled at my silence.

“Suddenly the girl has nothing to say! She keeps her mouth shut right when the questions get difficult. Reminds me of the little lion himself,” he drawled, running a gloved hand through my hair. I jerked away in disgust, now training my eyes on a point on the cavern walls in the distance.

“But lucky for you, pet, I believe I know the answer.” He squatted down, forcing my chin to look him directly in the face. 

“Would you like to hear it?” Nathanos whispered, his breath once again assaulting my face. I swore I felt the same cold spot on the edge of my lip reappear where he had planted his kiss back in Dazar’alor. I shuddered slightly at the memory.

He pulled my chin up and down in a forced nod. I kept my eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare, even as Nathanos remained right in front of me.

“From all of our time together, I’ve come to the conclusion that you defy my authority and the authority of other older men because you believe that one, no one deserves the same respect you gave to your father, and if you are obedient to anyone other than that helpless brother of yours, you are taking away from the legacy the great Varian Wrynn left behind. You see how the other Alliance leaders don’t have the same respect for the little lion as they did for your father, and because of this, you make a point to faithfully defend him. But the  _ one  _ time you slip up. The one time you decide to take a stroll alone, which I’m  _ positive _ was against your brother’s wishes...I find you. Two, in retaliation, you defy me, because the pain I inflict on you when you are disobedient is what you believe you deserve for your mistakes. In your mind, I am the usher of all the punishment everyone else is too afraid to enact upon your bratty, royal self. You oppose me because you  _ want _ me to punish you. You believe you need to be kept in check, or else…well, you can finish that, can’t you?” Nathanos ended his monologue by standing up. He proceeded to take the bow he had strung on his back off, along with the full quiver that accompanied it. He removed his heavy cloak, and took off his plate and leather gloves. 

I broke my faraway look to glance at his now bare hands. They were ashen and deathly, just like the rest of his exposed skin, reminding me that he was in fact not a normal man. He was an abomination. But the act of removing his gloves before whatever he planned to do next made me feel more uncomfortable than grossed out at his undeath. It felt...personal.

“Still no answer? I guess I must do all the talking then, hmm?

“Oh, because you hate talking  _ so _ much…” I mumbled sarcastically under my breath. Nathanos rambled on unphased.

“I think that you need me to keep you in check because if no one does, you’re afraid of what you are capable of. You made another critical error in your little show in Stormsong Valley. You reinforced the idea that you  _ are _ a threat. You know that you are more powerful than that witch Proudmoore, more dangerous than that mongrel that Gilneas calls a king, and far more competent than Anduin. The thing is, you don’t want anyone to know because then they’d see you as a threat, just as I do! And anyone with an ounce of sense would immediately claim your power as their own. Claim  _ you _ as their own.” 

“So...you hide. You’ve found no suitable authority, no true force who you deem competent enough to discipline you, because the one who could, died on the Broken Shore. Didn’t he, Wrynn? The one man who recognized your power, valued your strength, and pushed you to be more than an immature princess was killed just as you were getting grips with who you truly are. And ever since, you’ve been lashing out, not truly because you want to, but because you want someone to make you pay the consequences. And no one has...not until I found you in Stormwind.”

Everything Nathanos was saying felt...intrusive. Like he had invaded my mind, had found his way to the deepest parts of my thoughts and taken them for his own. Like he had taken away my only safe place and made it so I couldn’t even escape to my own mind for respite. He was relaying things back to me that I had never spoken out loud to anyone else. I couldn’t let him go any further.

“Stop talking like you know me, Nathanos. You make all these arrogant claims but you’ve barely been in my presence long enough to learn my name,” I declared, demanding an ounce of respect even where I knew I would find none.

“I know more about you than even you do, princess. My Lady’s power ensures it. Would you like to have another taste?” Black and purple smoke began to envelop his ashen hands once more, and my eyes widened. 

“No! I will not be defil—,” I yelled in protest, but the smoke came towards me all the same. I suddenly had no control over my thoughts, the corners of my vision filling with darkness. I hoped it was from me losing consciousness, so that I could escape the monster in front of me. My strength didn’t fail, however, and instead I only felt the magic inside me bolster. I could still see Nathanos clearly in front of me, but all the thoughts of anger and contempt faded into the background, suddenly overwhelmed with haunting whispers.

“ _ Submit. Submit to the will of the Queen. Obey the Dark Lady, as all have before you. As all will after you. _ ” The whispers sounded like my own voice, but multiplied and ghostly. Like I was somehow talking to myself behind the grave. I felt my mind squeeze in on itself in pain as I tried to ignore my own thoughts assaulting me.

“ _ Submit to the Banshee’s Champion. Obedience to him is obedience to Sylvanas. Abide by his commands. It is the only way. _ ” The crushing feeling inside my head built and built, but the frost, fire, and arcane grew as well. I felt like I couldn’t control any part of me. My mind actively forced me to look at Nathanos in compliance, to soften my glare. My body told me to unleash, to let it all go, to let him feel my pain. To  _ make _ him feel my pain. 

I couldn’t even turn my head enough to the side to see it, but my hands set themselves on fire. I pointed my fingertips as far as I could towards Nathanos and let it go. 

I watched the Dark Ranger dodge two fireballs easily, but as the fire soared past him, I noticed even through the pain that they were not purely orange. My spells were laced with black and purple, just like the dark magic Nathanos was using on me now, and had shot into me in Stormsong Valley. Who was I becoming?

The question spiraled down into the depths of my mind as I felt something in my head snap under the pressure of my disobedience. I went limp as the whispers overwhelmed me. My body felt stronger than I had ever experienced in my entire life. I was intoxicated with power, but my psyche couldn’t handle anything more. 

“ _ Submit. Yield. Obey the Banshee Queen. Obey her champion. Follow his will. You have no other choice _ ,” I heard myself echo, each second passing leaving a pulse of anguish in my head.

“Stop…” I mumbled, unable to raise my voice any louder. My real voice felt far away, the whispers inside my head feeling more real than what came from my mouth. I lifted my head slightly, trying to get Nathanos’ attention, only to watch him empower his hands even more, sending more dark magic towards me. A new wave of agony overcame me, even as my body felt like it was eclipsing with energy. I couldn’t even stop my hands from bursting into flames, all of the magic that was begging to come out of me.

“ _ Submit. Take your brother’s place as Queen. Take the throne. Ruin the Alliance and overcome the world for the Banshee Queen. Eliminate all who have disrespected you. Eliminate all who have tarnished your father’s legacy. Accept the power. Be the other. Claim what is yours! _ ” the whispers demanded, now turning into loud commands. Could Nathanos hear them too? Could he put a stop to them? Could he save me from this? He saved me from the shrine room before. He saved me from Baine. He rescued me from Stormwind. He…

“ _ Stop it! _ Stop, please!  _ Please _ , Nathanos, I can’t—,” I screamed, cutting myself off as I wrenched up in my chains, random spells finding their way out of my body and crashing into the cavern walls. My mind felt split in two, my body about to burst at the seams with magic, both my own and from the Dark Ranger.

The pain ceased in the next instant. The power drew out of me, my head dropped to my chin, and my body felt like it was melting down into the floor. I wished it would. I wished I would be away from here, away from these chains, away from the torture. But even as I felt the cold chains around my wrists, I knew when my arms were free once more, my soul would never quite understand the same freedom.

The room was silent again, save for a few calls of my voice echoing off the chamber walls. Nathanos didn’t seem to hear them, which was strange. I kept my head fixed to the floor, as if I had the strength to lift it any further. Nathanos would see it as defiance, as some remaining strength that he needed to steal from me. I would kneel my head then, show him I was obeying.

I listened to Nathanos’ plate boots come closer. He walked slowly, methodically. I pictured him pulling his gloves back on. Maybe grooming his moustache. I pictured his crimson eyes. They didn’t seem so threatening. I needed them to look at me and see obedience. I said nothing, and didn’t pull away as Nathanos’ still-bare hand touched my chin once more. He lifted it gently, carefully, showing me he cared. Tears began to form in my eyes. I couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Do you understand, now? It pains me to hurt you in this way, Y/N.” I looked back and forth weakly between his eyes, unable to see his true emotion within them. I decided to believe he was telling me the truth. I nodded ever so slightly in response, because I did understand. I didn’t want to go through any of that again, so I would  _ have  _ to understand.

“From here on, I ask that you follow my directions. I ask that you remain disciplined. If you obey, you will only know the power you just experienced. If you do not...I can only provide you pain. That is just how it has to be, princess. You will learn, just as you have now.” Nathanos’ voice wafted over me peacefully. Hearing him out felt like it was soothing my mind. He set my chin back down, leaving me to blink slowly at the ground as I heard the sound of metal clinking and felt my wrists fall freely, one by one. 

Before I could crumble to the ground, Nathanos’ strong body caught me. I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the skin of his neck on my forehead. The chill of his skin cooled me down. He lifted me up just like he had in Dazar’alor, and I listened as the echoes of the caverns lessened as we departed from Orgrimmar. 

The picture of the torch back in the depths of Dazar’alor appeared once again in my mind, almost making my head feel sore as I recalled the memory. The shadows casted on the walls seemed to grow in this picture in my mind. I nestled closer into Nathanos as I tried to hide from the shadow, not realizing I was only pulling myself further into the darkness I so feared.

~~

Nathanos Blightcaller jumped a portal back to Dazar’alor in the very early hours of the morning. Baine watched as the Dark Ranger walked back into the Great Seal, with Princess Wrynn laying in his arms. His brow furrowed slightly as the Blightcaller offered him only a curt nod, walking casually past him towards the stairs down to the Port of Zandalar. Something about Nathanos’ cool and collected manner just rubbed the tauren the wrong way, this morning being no exception.

Baine shook his huge head, listening to his beads clack together as he turned his attention back to the maps of Nazmir and Dazar’alor set before him. He had a battle to prepare for, and tried not to be too confused about who his true enemies were as he readied himself for the coming attack.


	10. Out of the Shadows

“Up.” 

The single word pulled me back into consciousness. I heard Nathanos’ voice cut through my dreams and even through the haze of sleep, my mind began to tell me to obey. 

I rose immediately off of whatever I was laying on. Rubbing my eyes, I realized it was the same dark room, the same dusty bed on the  _ Banshee’s Wail _ that I had slept on a few days ago. Was it a few days ago? I was losing track of time. 

Thoughts of time passing didn’t matter now, though. I needed my mind clear to pay attention to Nathanos. He was already out of the room by the time I got my bearings. I hustled to keep up. 

Up on the main deck, my surroundings told me I hadn’t been asleep for long. The morning light was barely beginning to rise, the dark sky only starting to lighten. Even through the dim lighting, I could see hundreds of Zandalari and Horde troops alike rushing around in every direction. It was chaotic, but every soldier looked like they had a specific job to do. They were all on a mission. Something big must be on its way, then.

Nathanos didn’t say a word to me as we worked our way through the crowds of the Port, and up through the now almost-empty Grand Bazaar. We reentered the Great Seal, and met Baine back at the mission table he seemed glued to. I stood slightly behind Nathanos. Seeing the tauren up close again, with the incident in the shrine room still somewhat fresh in my mind, was proving to be difficult. A ghost of a furry hand seemed to pass through my hair. 

“Any word from your Rangers?” the tauren asked after he chanced a pitiful look down at me. 

“ _ He is dangerous, Y/N _ ,” my mind whispered, _ “You are only safe with Nathanos _ .” I slid slightly further into the cover of Nathanos’ cloak.

“They’ve been tracking the Alliance’s progress on the eastern coast of Nazmir all night. Their boats have managed to maneuver into a narrow channel near the Altar of Rot. I’ve stationed a small force of my Rangers to stick to the trees overlooking the water.”

“Good. The battalion is leaving shortly. Will you be joining them?” 

Nathanos turned back to me and smirked. He pulled my arm gently forward, bringing me out of my hiding spot.

“Why yes, I think we will. Can’t have the Alliance missing their princess any longer now, can we?” he drawled. Baine didn’t offer a chuckle, or any sort of response for that matter. He only looked at me, as if he was trying to see what I thought about the situation. I stared back at him blankly. The whispers hadn’t told me what to think.

“You’d best get moving, then. I’ll see you out.” Baine brushed past the both of us, his long braids swaying as he walked. We made our way back out of the Great Seal, and Baine commandeered two large Zandalari raptor mounts for us. I prepared to get on my own, but just as I was grabbing the reins, Nathanos touched my shoulder. He waved his head to the side, signalling for me to follow him once again. I obeyed, waiting as he climbed aboard the massive mount and offered me a hand up. I swung my leg over and wrapped my arms around Nathanos’ waist to hold on. I thought I heard an exasperated huff from Baine, but maybe it was just that. A sigh.

For some reason, I looked back to Baine as we prepared to set off. The tauren chieftain gave an awkward wave goodbye. I wondered why he wasn’t travelling to Nazmir with the rest of the Horde. Deep in the back of my mind, I wished I was riding with him into battle. Or even staying in Dazar’alor itself. But the sudden hint of a headache convinced me it was best to stick with Nathanos. It was best to continue to comply with the Dark Ranger.

We set off on a brisk pace towards the dark jungles of Nazmir. I watched the green leaves turn quickly to a ghastly black color, and figured there must have been an Altar of Rot in these jungles for a reason. A certain stench hung in the air, one of old blood and decaying flesh. I tried to just breathe through my mouth. 

We soon caught up to the lead Horde squadron on their way to intercept the Alliance. There were way more soldiers than I was expecting to see, and I wondered just how large of an assault the Alliance was planning. How large of an assault my brother planned. How many Alliance troops he was sending to fight and die for him, for a piece of rotten and decayed land. My brows furrowed. It felt like a waste of life. Sending so many to meet their end in a disgusting piece of unknown jungle. I gripped tighter around Nathanos’ waist, absentmindedly hoping my last moments would not be under black leaves away from home. 

A loud orcish command pulled me from my thoughts, and suddenly the Horde’s advance stopped. I sat up as straight as I could to peer over Nathanos’ shoulder, seeing another huge temple about 100 yards away. It looked like it was decomposing, much like the smell the whole jungle gave off. The walls of the temple, which I imagined used to be gold, were now a murky brown, covered in dead leaves and vines. At the base of the temple, tall blue banners were raised into the air, a sharp contrast to the dark jungle. The gold lions imprinted on the flags felt familiar, but I thought that even if I were to be holding one in my hands, the safety of the symbol would still feel far away.

The Alliance at the base of the Altar seemed to have halted their trek forward as well. An eerie silence overtook the jungle, as if both armies were suspended in the moment. I had never been in such a large scale battle before. Was there always a slight hesitation from both sides? Did it always seem like the ensuing fight was something that could easily be prevented?  _ I sound like Anduin _ . 

Nathanos walked our mount forward, upsetting the delicate balance of the silence I was taking in. The Horde soldiers nearby shifted uneasily, but I didn’t know if it was fear or excitement. My gut clenched with nerves, but my mind told me it was time for blood. Whose, I didn’t know. Nathanos would tell me.

The orc commanders at the front of the battalion gave another great shout, and in the distance I heard an Alliance leader do the same. Both armies surged forward in the next second, and it began.

Nathanos directed the raptor up the side of a nearby hill, overlooking the entire battlefield. We jumped off just as I heard metal clashing down below, a flash of Stormsong Valley coming to mind. The Dark Ranger waved me forwards to the edge of the hill, and pointed down to a large pocket of Horde and Alliance that were fighting near the middle. 

“Pick a target and bring them down. No questions,” he instructed sternly, and I nodded in understanding. I looked downwards, finding a large human warrior who was about to overcome a smaller undead caster. I readied an ice lance, but just as I was about to fire it down, black smoke returned to the corners of my vision. 

I inhaled sharply in surprise, my body tensing slightly as it prepared for pain. None came however, but I felt the same surge of power overcome me as it had in the caverns beneath Orgrimmar. 

“You’ve done well so far, Wrynn. Show the Alliance who deserves to be their Queen.” 

I thought I heard Nathanos say this directly into my ear, but my own voice began to echo through my head once again. I shook it off, trying to focus. I had a job to do. 

I looked back down at the warrior below me, seeing the undead fallen at his feet. The human would not have another kill to his name. My hands froze over once more, but this time I saw hints of purple and black join the icy blue that enveloped them. I forced the magic out, watching proudly as the frost hit my mark. The warrior fell instantly, and I swore I heard the clink of his helmet in particular as it hit the marshy land beneath him. 

I glanced over to Nathanos for approval, but the Dark Ranger was occupied with sending arrow after arrow down into the battle below. I turned my attention back to my task, chiding myself for wanting his endorsement. I picked another Alliance soldier, this one having to hold back three Horde troops on her own. I readied an arcane blast, watching the dark bolt explode in her face and her body fall limply to the ground. The three Horde looked up to the hill to see who sent the magic. I ignored their gaze, turning to a fresh target. 

With every kill, I felt my power grow. It became intoxicating. I began to inch down the side of the hill, wanting to be in better range for my marks. Nathanos followed my lead. Every Alliance soldier I brought down, more magic seemed to course through my veins, as if their deaths were fueling me in some way. I wanted more.

_ Did these battles always seem like they could be easily prevented? _ The question invaded my mind out of nowhere, stopping me in my tracks as I finally made it to the level of the battle. I looked around hastily for some sort of enchanter or succubi who could be invading my thoughts, but found none in the fray. My eyes fell upon my first target, whose helmet now lay discarded a few feet away from his now unblinking eyes. The smoke around my vision faded momentarily as I saw blond hair flowing onto the ground, attached to the warrior’s lifeless head. 

The man looked far older than my brother. I couldn’t even tell what color his eyes were from here, but I knew they weren’t blue. He bore no resemblance to Anduin, but the shock of blond hair speckled with mud and limp in the dirt beneath me felt wrong. My heart sank. What had I done?  
The power within me was overpowered by agony in the next second, and the edges of my vision were encased with dark smoke once more. I yelped, crumbling forward as my insides threatened to become my outsides.

“ _ Remain obedient, Y/N. Now is no time for sentiment _ ,” the voices echoed. The pain subsided as I straightened up, breathing in deeply as I prepared another spell. I targeted a whole line of Alliance soldiers that were advancing across the marshy field. A single spell came from me. I watched as my unnaturally colored fireball split five ways on its own, striking each enemy square in the chest. They all fell with the same surprised look on their faces. They couldn’t recognize me. They didn’t know their own princess had just murdered them. I was sure of it.

“ _ What does it matter anyway? They are fuel for your power. Bring them all down _ ,” the voices encouraged. 

Finding more blue to focus on became harder and harder as the sound of the fighting became quieter, the Horde starting to overcome the invaders. We had almost reached the base of the Altar, pushing the Alliance back to where they had started. 

I turned to Nathanos, watching him rapidly eliminate three more charging Alliance warriors. He returned my eye this time, his crimson gaze crinkling as he grinned widely. I felt my chest puff out slightly with pride as we looked back to the remaining enemy forces. A tall Lightforged draenei stood head and shoulders above the rest, hacking down any Horde soldiers who got near enough for his giant Light-infused blade to reach. I followed Nathanos as we got closer.

“Blademaster! You are a long way from Argus, are you not?” Nathanos yelled over the crowd, getting the draenei’s attention immediately. The blademaster gripped his weapon tightly, a glare deepening on his masked face.

“And you are not far from defeat, Blightcaller!” the draenei called back. 

“Is that so? Allow me to introduce someone to you, Telaamon! It would be good for you to know who ended your life!” Nathanos taunted as he stepped to the side, bringing me into plain view of the draenei. 

“Princess Y/N Wrynn of Stormwind, at your service!” I saw Nathanos bow deeply in the corner of my eye as he announced me, but kept my concentration on Telaamon. His Light-filled eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly, noticeable even from a few yards away. Why? I was his enemy. I would be his end.

“I’m afraid your little invasion attempt will be cut short by the very sister of your High King! Pity it was all a waste,” the Dark Ranger jeered, readying an arrow in his bow. I took that as my cue, prepping a dark frostbolt in each hand. 

“The Light wastes nothing, fiend!”

And the draenei charged. No other Horde soldier attempted to stop him, and I waited for him to get closer and closer. I wanted the full power of my spells to be felt. Nathanos launched a black arrow, which bounced easily off of Telaamon’s blade, disintegrating instantly as the Light overcame the dark magic. The blademaster continued his advance, heading directly at Nathanos. He was close enough now.

I fired. Telaamon held up his blade in defense, and one of the bolts ricocheted off easily. The other hit its mark exactly. My frostbolt knocked the Lightforged draenei backwards, so much strength to it that he nearly lost his footing. Telaamon’s whole body shifted backwards as he tried to keep his balance, his arms open and back as they struggled to keep him upright. Nathanos took advantage of this, firing another black arrow, this one lodging itself deep into the Lightforged’s exposed lavender muscle.

Telaamon grunted loudly, the Light in his eyes dimming slightly as he dropped his blade. It didn’t seem to take much to fell the blademaster. Nathanos fired another two arrows into our opponent, each implanted into either side of his chest. The draenei dropped to his knees stiffly, his weapon now strewn in the mud beside him. Nathanos approached him cautiously, still maintaining a certain swagger to his walk.

“What was that you had said about us not being far from defeat, Blademaster?” Nathanos mocked, cocking his head to the side as the Lightforged began to bleed out beneath him. The draenei was silent for a moment, eyes raising from the ground to meet my own. He coughed wetly behind his mask.

“I meant every word, Blightcaller. The Light will ensure it.” Telaamon coughed violently once again, now hunched over on his hands and knees, black arrows still sticking out of him.

“It seems the only thing the Light can ensure is death to its believers, wouldn’t you say, princess?” Nathanos looked back at me as I watched the draenei slowly die. The Light. Anduin was a firm believer in it. I had looked into it, but found more assurance in the form of the arcane. And now, further protection from the darkness. My mind seemed to hum in appreciation at this.

“Your brother is strong in the Light, Princess Wrynn. He will free you from this monster—,” Telaamon began to cough out, before Nathanos cut him off with a sharp kick to the ribs. 

“She will never see the little lion alive again, beast! If your helpless invasion here is any indicator of his leadership, he’ll be ousted before we return to Zuldazar!” 

Nathanos kicked Telaamon once more in the side, making the draenei fall fully onto the ground. I heard a weak chuckle rise from behind his mask. Nathanos stood over him, and I could feel the rage beginning to overtake him. I remembered the anger being directed at me not long ago. 

“I’ll enjoy watching your precious Light fade from you as you die beneath my boot, draenei. Where is your naaru now? Would you care to say a final prayer?”

“I pray for you, Princess Wrynn. The darkness within you will not last forever. Return to Zuldazar, the king wil—,” Telaamon squeezed his eyes shut and groaned loudly as Nathanos pressed his plate boot strongly down onto his chest. Blood began to seep out of his armor. It would not be long now.

“Return to Zu—what are you talking about? Speak, you imbecile!” Nathanos insisted, and I sensed panic in his voice for the first time ever.

“I told you, I meant what I said,” Telaamon’s voice grew fainter behind his mask, “your defeat is not far off. I have fulfilled my oath, as have all of the other Alliance soldiers brought down in this jungle. And now, we will rest.” Telaamon barely whispered the last part, and I watched as the Light seeped out of his eyes. His head drooped limply to the side. It was done.

Or, so I thought. In the distance, several booms sounded. Several  _ explosions _ sounded. Smoke began to rise from the direction the Horde battalion had come from. From Dazar’alor.

“Those bastards!” Nathanos cursed in frustration as he removed his boot from the dead draenei’s chest. He began to sprint back towards the hill, evading all of the fallen Horde and Alliance strewn about. I ran after him, still slightly confused.

“All of you, back to Dazar’alor!  _ Now! _ The city is under attack!  _ Move!  _ Wrynn, with me!” Nathanos commanded desperately, as the hundreds of Horde soldiers still standing began the run back to Zuldazar. I grabbed his hand at the top of the hill, once more mounting the giant raptor. I held on tight as Nathanos smacked the reins, the dinosaur carrying us back to Dazar’alor at a full sprint.

~~

Anduin’s hair blew in front of his face from the force of Mekkatorque’s explosives detonating on the Zandalari fleet. He gripped the hilt of Shalamayne with one hand, the reins of Reverence held tightly in the other. Anduin breathed in deeply, in time with the explosions rocking the ships just a few hundred feet to his left. In on the silence, out on the blast. He felt his focus return to him. Below to his right, Mathias Shaw was already looking up at him expectantly. Anduin nodded once, and the spymaster prepared his blades. He would slip into the crowd momentarily.

In front of the High King, one of the largest forces of Alliance soldiers he had ever commanded stood neatly organized and completely prepared for war. The crippling of the Zandalari fleet surely could be heard from the jungles in Nazmir. Anduin could not let the sacrifice of those who drew the Horde away from the city be in vain. It was time to move.

“Advance! For the Alliance!” he yelled, hoisting Shalamayne into the sky with courage. The entire army surged forward, clashing with the few remaining Zandalari guards that stayed in Dazar’alor. 

Anduin clapped the reins on Reverence, the horse already anticipating his rider’s next move as the steed sprinted ahead. The High King cut through the battle easily, cutting down any Zandalari that raised a weapon in his direction. He would have preferred to hang back further, to prepare a mass resurrection for any wounded soldiers as he did in Lordaeron, but he knew there was purpose to his involvement in this siege. Anduin needed the attention on him, and not on the trio Shaw was leading into one of the many entrances into the base of the temple. Some things were important enough that he couldn’t just sit back and watch.

Lots of time had passed as the Alliance gained ground on the Port of Zandalar, making their way up to the Grand Bazaar as the rumble of an approaching army started to be heard from the north. From Nazmir. The Horde was returning. Anduin sent a brief prayer to the Light that Shaw, Fairwind, and Reznik would return with Y/N shortly. They were running out of time.

A smaller squadron of Alliance troops began to assault the lines of royal Zandalari troops that guarded the Golden Throne, up at the very peak of the pyramid. Anduin watched their advance, but restrained himself from joining. His fight was not with Rastakhan. It felt contradictory for the High King to think that as he lay siege to the troll king’s capital, but deep down Anduin knew that his true enemy was not in Rastakhan. It was hardly in the Horde, either. But as averse to violence as the human king was, he would tear any city down in order to maintain the peace for his people. For his family.

The rumble of the approaching Horde grew louder and louder, and Anduin watched as red tabards began to fill the gold levels of the pyramid. He looked quickly back to the base of the temple. Just then, Shaw emerged from one of the doorways, an injured Fairwind strung over his shoulder. Reznik came out just behind them. No one else followed. 

The spymaster looked directly to his king across the battlefield, his brows furrowed together in worry. He shook his head side to side. Anduin’s stomach dropped. 

The High King was forced to steel himself, though, as an arrow ripped just past his face. He knew of only two archers who could purposely miss in such a way just to get on his nerves. Anduin looked up to the direction the arrow had come from. Reverence reared up in fury. Anduin wished he could do the same.

Nathanos Blightcaller stood at the edge of one of the upper levels of the pyramid, his crimson eyes barely visible in the distance. He made a show of readying yet another arrow, and Anduin knew the bastard wanted the world to know he had just missed ending the life of the High King of the Alliance. Anduin turned Reverence to face the Dark Ranger head on, preparing a shield of Light in case the Blightcaller decided not to miss once more. 

His Light wavered and his death grip on Shalamayne loosened when he saw a smaller figure step out from behind Nathanos. 

Even a ways away, Anduin could see how different his sister looked. A certain darkness seemed to hang over her, only accentuated by the black robes she now wore. No doubt that the Blightcaller had made her rid herself of the royal robes she normally dressed in. They seemed to hang on her heavily, and Anduin wondered when the last time she was fed was. He tried to be encouraged, however, by the fact that Y/N had no restraints visible on her. No heavy chains weighing her down. Unfortunately, Anduin knew from experience that not all bindings were physical. What had the Blightcaller done to her? 

Anduin watched his sister glare down at him. He tried to tell himself the distance was making it hard to tell if her face was full of malice or fear. He would not accept that Y/N looked more content to be with Nathanos Blightcaller than back in Stormwind with him. 

He readied the shield of Light once more, and chanced a look back to Shaw, who was watching the interaction between his king and the Dark Ranger. Anduin returned his gaze to Nathanos, who seemed to point his sister towards Shaw. Was he...giving her up?

Shaw removed the wounded Fairwind from his shoulders, passing him off to Reznik to awkwardly support back to the Alliance ships. He readied his daggers cautiously as Y/N began to cut through the battles all around her, making a beeline for the spymaster. Reverence carried Anduin closer to Shaw, not all the way over, but close enough. He must have sensed something was off.

Anduin’s eye caught Y/N’s hands as they began to glow with fire. She was standing just feet away from Shaw now, who stood across from her in an unsure defensive stance. What was Nathanos’ play here? Anduin noticed Shaw glance just slightly towards Reznik and Fairwind. Y/N must have too. In the next moment she raised her hands and out came two bright orange fireballs. But they weren’t completely orange. And they weren’t headed towards Shaw.

Anduin launched his shield of Light out in front of the oddly dark magic his sister had just released. The spells exploded brightly as they collided just a yard or two from Fairwind and Reznik. Why was she attacking the wounded?

Anduin clambored off of Reverence immediately, rushing to put himself between his sister and the injured former pirate. Shaw advanced on the princess, ducking expertly under an ice lance aimed at his face. The High King looked up to the ledge his sister had descended from, seeing Nathanos peering down the bridge of his nose. He was just observing. 

Shaw lunged, attempting to tackle Y/N, but she sidestepped at the last second, sending the spymaster flying forward onto the ground. Anduin watched his sister prepare another spell, about to hit Shaw while he was down. His stomach went into a knot, knowing from that close, the princess’s magic would prove deadly. His face contorted into a snarl as he realized his sister’s fighting dirty had definitely been taught to her in her absence from Stormwind. Nathanos was an expert at hitting his enemies while they were down.

“Y/N!” was all Anduin could think to yell, getting her attention off of the helpless spymaster and turned back towards the king. He was ready to try to reason with her, to convince her she was safe, but the unhinged look in her eyes told Anduin to hold tightly to Shalamayne. Just as her hands began to glow with arcane, Anduin fired a quick smite at his sister. Nothing that would hurt her permanently, but to slow down her murderous rampage. 

Anduin flinched as Y/N wailed in pain across from him. She buckled over, holding her head in her hands. The Light must have worked, but it was certainly not supposed to put her into so much agony. The High King looked back up to Nathanos, who seemed to be conjuring something himself, black and purple smoke wrapped around his hands up above. Glancing back down to Y/N, she seemed to have recovered. 

The princess breathed heavily, not in exhaustion, but as if she was fighting to keep herself contained. Anduin swore he saw a bright blue flash in her eyes, much like he had seen Jaina do when she was at her most powerful. In his peripheral, Anduin saw Shaw slowly get up, trying not to bring attention to himself.

Anduin readied Shalamayne and a shield of Light as his own sister sent the biggest beam of arcane, frost, and fire energy that he had ever seen directly at his chest. The beam connected heartily with the barrier, knocking Anduin back, but he remained on his feet. He could feel the heat from all of her magic threatening its way through his Light. He attempted to walk forward towards his sister, but the beam forced him back slightly with every step. Anduin looked at the magic itself, seeing bright blue, purple, and orange weaved around each other with smaller threads of black incorporated. The black was just the same as what he had seen wrapped around Nathanos Blightcaller’s hands. It was like he was controlling her.

Just when Anduin felt Y/N’s magic start to seep through his Light barrier, the beam shot uncontrolled to the side as Shaw tackled the princess to the ground. 

~~

“No,  _ no! _ You have to let me go, I have to obe—,” I screamed, my body and mind erupting in pain. I flailed my legs around, trying to hook my feet on a single stone, a single piece of the ground that would keep me from being taken away, that would stop the pain, that would show Nathanos I wasn’t trying to disobey him by escaping. Anduin and Shaw each had a hold on one of my arms, and pulled me with all of their might. The distance between me and Nathanos grew more and more.

They set me down, but before I could scramble back to my feet, Anduin quickly moved between me and the pyramid, cutting off my view of Nathanos. I tried to peer around him, but my brother moved faster than I could. 

“Y/N, look at me! Look at me. You don’t have to listen to him! He’s trying to control you! We’re trying to keep you safe—”

“He’s going to kill me! He’s in my head and he won’t get out, I have to listen!” I pleaded, scooting back to try to see around Anduin. He stepped closer once more. I looked back to him and watched him search my desperate face, before he sighed deeply. All I saw next was a bright flash of Light, and my body bursting once more in discomfort.

This burn was different from Nathanos’ treatment, though. Where Nathanos corrupted, the Light was cleansing. My soul itself felt stretched and scrubbed, the Light tearing through my body and filling me completely, even just for a moment. The whispers stopped. I opened my eyes, even as I felt myself burning, and saw no more smoke invading my vision. I felt released.

I saw the Light fade from Anduin’s hands as he extended one towards me, helping me to my feet. My head felt clear, but my body was still thrumming with power. It wasn’t over yet. I didn’t know how much time I had, but I needed to get as far away from Nathanos as I could. I brushed past Anduin, and channeled all of my magic into another beam, just like I had pointed at my own brother just moments ago. It terrified me to know I could have killed Anduin. I shot the magic out towards Nathanos without a regret.

Nathanos looked down on me, his brow furrowed once more. He didn’t have time to dodge my magic this time, and I saw his eyes just begin to widen as my beam exploded into his face. In the next moment, the ledge was empty. I had knocked him off his feet. Maybe I disintegrated him completely. Either way, it was time to go.

I turned and began to sprint towards the Alliance fleet, and could see a portal to Stormwind shimmering aboard the nearest ship. Anduin and Shaw followed immediately after me. I was just about to step onto the boat when darkness filled my mind once more. I tripped over my own feet, crashing to the wooden floor of the ship. My body began to quiver and seize up. I found myself unable to move, unable to get myself closer to the portal.

“ _ He will find you. He will never stop hunting you _ .” The echoes in my head were screams now, insistent on keeping me down in fear. I howled, Anduin and Shaw grabbing my arms once more. I watched a darkened and smoking Dazar’alor fade into the distance, no Nathanos in sight. But when I couldn’t see him, more terror gripped me than I had ever felt when the Dark Ranger was in my sights.

The noise of battle went silent as my body tore through the Twisting Nether, the humidity of Zuldazar dissipated as it was replaced with the cool air of Stormwind Keep. 


	11. Into the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always love reading your comments - feel free to keep dropping them as the story continues! Thanks for reading!

I stared up into the windows of Stormwind Keep, the warm early afternoon sun coating my face. My ears adjusted to the quiet of the throne room, the final echoes of metal against metal leaving the inner parts of my head. I breathed in shakily, taking in as much of the sunlight as I could, my hands delicately tracing the smooth stones on the ground of the room. I felt every ridge, every dip in the rocks. They were something physical I could attach myself to, something to assure me I was in fact back in Stormwind, that the whirlwind of the past weeks was swirling to a halt around me.

Plate armor clanged gently on a stone near me, and my first thought was one of panic. Had Nathanos followed me home? I tilted my head slightly away from the windows high above me, the sunlight starting to warm the side of my neck as I looked over. 

No dark metal armor filled my gaze. Only white and gold, the boot of a friend. The boot of safety, belonging to my brother. I trailed my eyes up his armor to meet his face, and saw a sad half smile come to Anduin as I finally looked him in the eye. Shaw stood by silently.

I sat up slowly, my head pounding as I did so. In front of me, the steps down and out of the Keep sprawled. I was reminded of how long it had been since I last walked them. I looked down to my black robes, the only dark thing in the whole room. I realized there was no smoke on the edges of my vision, and my thoughts were just that: mine. I wanted to rid myself of the remaining darkness on me. I needed a bath.

Anduin extended a hand down to me, helping me to my feet as I brushed off some dirt from my robes. The royal guards in the throne room watched us silently, each one bowing to me as I looked at them. I turned back to Anduin, and we wrapped each other in an enormous hug.

My arms could barely fit around his giant armor, but it was enough. Anduin’s embrace felt just like my father’s used to, a momentary protection from everything harmful in the world. He let go, ruffling a gloved hand in my filthy hair like our father used to years ago. I felt my shoulders drop slightly, and my jaw unclenched for the first time in awhile. I took a deep breath, the familiar scents of the throne room all coming back to me. I was safe here.

A slight woosh sounded, and behind Anduin, Flynn Fairwind and Reznik appeared. They didn’t bother with a hello. Shaw hurried over and supported Flynn’s free arm, and the trio headed towards the infirmary. The first pang of guilt came to me. Even though I was safe, the reality of everything that happened began to hang on me.

“It is so good to see you back home, Y/N,” Anduin said quietly, the same sad smile still on his face. I looked back up at my brother as the trio left the throne room, and wondered how I looked in that moment. Did I appear as tired and broken as I felt? Something about my brother’s gaze gave me my answer. Out of nowhere, or so I told myself, tears welled in my eyes. My lip began to quiver, Anduin watching my emotion come to the surface. I wrapped him in another hug as tight as I could, weeping into his tabard.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Anduin,” I sobbed quietly, my voice muffled into his chest. 

“No, Y/N, you have nothing to be sorr—,” he started, arms holding me once more.

“It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. I should have never left the Keep that night, I should’ve listened to you and stayed inside,” I cried, cutting off my brother’s attempts to comfort me. The safety I felt being back in Stormwind didn’t come with peace, unfortunately. My muscles may have relaxed but my heart weighed heavy within me. It felt all said and done, I was home safe, but the fact that all of what happened to me could have been avoided if I had made better decisions was not lost on my soul. It was not lost on my conscience.

Anduin separated us with a gentle hold on my shoulders, holding me out in front of him as tears continued to stream down my face. I could feel traces of grime from Nazmir and old sweat from Dazar’alor coursing down with them. 

“Y/N, I need to make something very clear to you. What happened to you was, and will never be, your fault.  _ I  _ failed you by not explaining the dangers of that night.  _ I  _ failed you by treating you like a little girl, expecting you to happily stay in the keep, when I knew how capable and helpful you can be. Mistakes were made, Y/N. But you,  _ you _ were so brave! You survived. Y/N, you made it back. You are safe now.” Anduin wiped a stray hair out of my face, lifting my head up with his hand. I inhaled sharply and felt the tension return to my jaw, the forced movement of my chin bringing me back to Nathanos. Anduin knitted his blond brow, obviously having noticed my reaction. He pulled his hand away, the sad smile fading from his face. I knew the gesture was meant to be comforting. I couldn’t explain to him why it wasn’t. Even if I did, I’m sure he already knew.

“Y/N, I know things won’t be back to normal right away. I’m not sure they ever will be. But I promise you, we will get through this together. There’s a new strength to you, I see it already. I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before.” There was a pause, the two of us just looking at each other. He looked so much like our father just then. Adorned in his grand plate armor, Shalamayne hanging off his hip. He no longer looked like the young boy from our childhood. Anduin had changed into a man. Seeing how he acted in Dazar’alor, he had started acting like it too.

I wondered how much I had changed. Did Anduin notice my differences as I did his? Could he see what I had become? I thought it was better to bring them up on my own terms, rather than let him come to his own conclusions. I needed to regain control of myself. I wanted to have control over my narrative once more. I took a deep breath in, preparing the words to say to my brother.

“Anduin...in Zuldazar, before I saw you. I was in Nazmir. I was in Nazmir with him,” my words shook as they left my mouth, my eyes still raining slightly onto my cheeks. Anduin nodded gently, encouraging me to continue.

“I...Anduin, I kill—,”

“Y/N, no. What the Blightcaller made you do is not your fault. He was forcing you to act how you did. You had no other choice,” he assured me, leaning down slightly to try to look me in the eyes. I kept mine set on the floor, tracing the stones with my gaze as I had with my hands minutes ago. More tears began to splatter on the rocks below.

“But I did have a choice! I  _ did _ have a choice, Anduin! And I chose to avoid my own pain, I chose to obey him and kill those soldiers just so  _ I _ wasn’t punished! I’m a  _ murderer _ ,” the last words dissolved into sobs as I held my face in my hands. I heard no reaction from Anduin in the next moment, but then the sounds of buckles undoing and plate touching the ground reverberated through the otherwise silent throne room. My brother hugged me once more, the tight embrace no longer impeded by his massive shoulder plates. He just held me there, letting my tears soak through the cracks in my hands onto his chest.

“I know the words will never be enough to convince you. But in times like these, we all make decisions we normally would not, had we been given another option. That is the tragedy of war. What has been done is done, Y/N. The only thing you can do now is continue forward. Our struggles are far from over, but we must continue to forge ahead. You and I both must continue to fight. It is the only way to bring peace back to those who deserve it.”

My heart ached as Anduin attempted to comfort me. Would I deserve peace brought back to me? Did I deserve comfort in the midst of all of this madness? Officer Brady, Peake, the soldiers now lying dead alone in the darkness of Nazmir...I hoped they had comfort. I would not until I atoned for my mistakes. Anduin’s assurances were like he said: never enough to convince me. But I didn’t need convincing. I needed revenge. 

I pulled away, wiping the tears off of my face with the sleeves of my robe. I tried to force myself to stop crying.

“I need to go take a bath,” I sniffled, and Anduin chuckled lightly.

“You could say that again,” he joked, and I forced a smile on my face as my brother laughed louder. The muscles in my face hadn’t contorted in such a way in awhile, so smiling felt almost foreign to me. I hated that even the act of grinning had been taken from me in my time away.

I walked away from my brother towards the royal quarters, heading back to my own room and bathroom. Several royal guards saluted me regally as I passed, but all I could manage in return was a simple nod. Did I still deserve the respect of a princess? Did I ever deserve it to begin with? One of them opened the door to my chambers for me. 

“Welcome home, Princess Wrynn.”

I muttered a thank you, mimicking the small, sad smile Anduin was wearing earlier. I entered my room, shutting the large wooden door behind me. 

My room looked untouched in my absence. The four-poster bed ahead of me was neatly made as it always was, not a speck of dust to be seen. It differed dramatically from the bed on the  _ Banshee’s Wail _ that had become commonplace for me. The white covers with accents of blue and gold were bright and inviting, unlike the darkness I had slept on below deck. The contrast in colors reminded me of what I was wearing. 

I walked cautiously over to my wardrobe, feeling like I would be ripped from the room at any second. I took a deep breath as I opened the doors, remembering that continuing forward, that moving on would not be an instantaneous thing. Traces of my pain would follow me for a long time. It was my first day back in the Keep, so of course I wouldn’t immediately feel back at home. I had to allow myself to rest, to sink back into the safety of Stormwind.

Several different sets of royal robes greeted my eyes as I turned the wardrobe open. I poignantly ignored a set of white ones that looked eerily similar to the ones I had been wearing last time I was in Stormwind. I chose a set of muted blue robes, not near as dark as the black ones Nathanos had given me, but not as stark white as the ones I skipped over. The color choice felt right, like it matched how I was feeling inside. It wasn’t the perfectly clean and innocent white, but not the gaping darkness of the black robes. The blue was the other. The blue was like me, stuck in the middle. 

I grabbed one of the sleeves of the robes, noticing the delicate weaving of a gold pattern into the wrists. A small but comforting detail. I liked how the specks of gold were barely noticeable, but were there nonetheless. Something about the tailored look brought Baine to my mind. 

_ As hard as he and the Banshee Queen may try, they cannot kill hope. Keep that within you.  _ The tauren’s words returned to my mind easily, even as I struggled to remember how long ago he had told them to me. 

As I walked into my bathroom, I rubbed the pattern on the robes between my fingers, and realized that the hope Baine had reminded me to hold on to was just like the gold. It gleamed clearly in the light, but even when it was unseen, the threads were there. The gold was there. The hope remained. 

I peeled off the dark robes, noticing the weight of the clothing lift off of my body as the weight on my heart seemed to lessen, too. I bathed slowly and quietly, letting myself sink into the water and wash the past, as much as I could. When I dipped my head under water, I held my breath tightly in my chest, repeating to myself that I could come up whenever I wanted. I was taking a bath in my own bathroom in Stormwind, there were royal guards just outside my door, and I could feel warm light peeking through the bathroom window. I was not in a cold shrine room. I was under my own control. I was safe here.

I got out of the bath, and sat in a large, warm towel, listening to the water drain from the basin. Blood, dirt, and sweat flowed out with the water. I hoped the lingering pain of the past made its way out too. 

I redressed, and looked at myself in the mirror for the first time in weeks. My face looked gaunt, and my stomach rumbled as I realized how hungry I was. My eyes looked slightly sunken, dark circles had begun to form under them. I rubbed my now clean face with my fingers, massaging it gently. Feeling my face with my own fingertips felt soothing, in a way. Like I was finally taking care of myself again. Like I was regaining control. 

I made myself more presentable, brushing out my hair and spraying a light perfume onto my skin, feeling like I was getting myself ready for a normal day. 

I sighed into the mirror, realizing that as familiar as the perfume smelt, as soft as the robes I wore were, as comfortable as I was back in Stormwind Keep, my life was completely different now. I set my face into a determined look, glancing at my reflection. I would not fall victim to my past. I would take this day by day. I was back in control. My life would go on, even if it was never the same again. 


	12. Tending and Tearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Just a quick note: I've been consulting the Wowpedia pages (https://wow.gamepedia.com/Wowpedia) for the various characters in this story, using some of their quotes from the game in my writing. A lot of this next scene's dialogue is pulled directly from one of the in-game cinematics, linked here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0rse61ONaM  
> I wanted to make it clear that I am not claiming those parts as my own work, but simply borrowed from WoW in order to stick to the lore already presented in game.  
> Okay, that's all! Enjoy :-)

**2 Weeks Later**

Jaina Proudmoore stood once again on Theramore Isle, the scent of the Great Sea wafting through the air as the wind played with stray pieces of hair that hung out of her hood. She had only returned to Theramore once since the death of her father, and had done so alone. She needed the time there by herself to stop running from the questions, to stop running from the guilt and doubts about her actions that led to her father’s death. 

But being back, this time with Mathias Shaw, and expecting to meet Baine Bloodhoof, it felt different. Jaina didn’t feel healed, but she felt more mature. She realized not every wound would mend itself before she learned something from the pain. Theramore was one of the largest wounds in her life, but it proved to be one of the most important lessons as well.

The pair of humans stood aboard one of the Kul Tiran ships, Jaina keeping an eye out for any signs of the Horde’s treachery. She sensed no hidden mercenaries, no snipers waiting on the upper decks of the ship. Jaina forced herself to take a deep breath as a Forsaken boat approached, coming to a halt just beside their own.

A large wooden plank slammed down onto the deck of the Kul Tiran ship, the two boats now connected as Baine Bloodhoof crossed over. A smaller figure followed him, but Jaina could not make out who it was. 

“Lady Jaina. Long has it been since we spoke peacefully in Theramore,” Baine greeted as he crossed his arms in front of him, bowing in salute. Jaina gripped her staff tightly, standing up a bit straighter. The reminder of Theramore’s past, of her past, was not the purpose of this meeting. She wanted to get on with it.

“Theramore is gone. You did not call me here to reminisce,” Jaina replied plainly, trying not to glare too fiercely at the tauren chieftain.

“No. I have come to return one who was lost.” 

Baine stepped off to the side, and the smaller figure who had followed the tauren on board came forward, removing a captain’s hat as they approached.

Jaina’s eyes widened as she took in the features on the undead man’s face. They were gaunt, sunken in, and long left to the mercy of the sea, but the mage would recognize those features no matter what damage time and water had done to them. 

Derek Proudmoore stood across from his sister once more, his once blue eyes cloudy, his once fair skin a cold grey. Jaina’s heart first rose with joy, then sunk back down to its normal hard place when she remembered who she was meeting with. The Horde was not one to give gifts.

“My own  _ brother _ ? I thought better of you, Baine! Tell me, is he yet another one of the Banshee’s puppets?” she questioned, approaching the tauren in a rage.

“Is he crammed full with blight? Is he the bomb this time?” Jaina roared, lighting up her hands with enough magic to blow the two boats sky high.

“Yes, that was the plan,” Derek spoke up softly, fiddling nervously with the hat in his hands. Jaina remembered him doing that when they were younger. When they both stood proudly in Kul Tiras. When Theramore still stood.

“But Baine took me from Sylvanas, before I was twisted to her will,” Derek continued, easing the magic out of Jaina’s hands as he spoke, “I am still your brother. For as long as the stars do shine.”

Jaina stared between Derek and Baine in shock. Both of their faces were set in a serious expression, as if they understood the reasons behind the confusion clearly shown on Jaina’s face. She stood there a moment, feeling the grooves of her staff between her fingers.

“Why?”

Baine was silent, his thick braids swaying slightly in the wind. His eyes hit the deck of the ship, before closing for a long second.

“The Horde has a sickness in it. We wage war while the earth-mother dies. We have forgotten what truly matters, and my heart can bear it no longer.” 

Things were silent for a moment. There was no doubt in Jaina’s mind that everyone had thoughts of Sylvanas Windrunner come up. Baine cleared his throat awkwardly before raising a question.

“Jaina...what is the state of Princess Wrynn?” The question seemed tense from the tauren’s mouth, but Jaina was starting to realize that it was because he truly cared to know.

“She’s recovering. The Blightcaller’s limited time with her is proving to have lasting results, but she is taking it day by day,” Jaina explained, noticing Baine’s eyes fall almost mournfully to the floor at the news. Jaina didn’t know why, but added, “She expressed to King Anduin and I the ways you tried to assist her in Zandalar. Your compassion was not lost on her.” 

Baine nodded, his concerned expression softening a bit at the compliment. More silence came.

Jaina considered the tauren’s words, and felt the weight of the great sacrifice Baine had committed, both for herself and Anduin. 

“Sylvanas will kill you over this. And she may not stop with you,” she warned solemnly, looking now at Baine with more sympathy.

“No life is worth living if we cannot be true to our nature,” Baine turned around, before adding, “I return home to take what solace I can in my family. I hope you take solace in yours.”

Derek looked up to Jaina at this, the two siblings meeting each other’s eyes. Jaina let her joy come back to her heart, and felt the pang of sadness accompany it from the cost of her brother’s return. She called out to Baine. He didn’t turn back, but paused briefly as he reboarded the Forsaken ship.

“Thank you.” Jaina meant it. Even on the coast of the ruins of Theramore, Jaina Proudmoore stood only a few feet away from one of the leaders of the Horde, and accepted his gift. She accepted his sacrifice to her. She remembered the honor of the Horde, the Horde she knew in her allyship with Thrall. 

The Forsaken ship sailed away, and Jaina prepared to bring their own boat back to Kul Tiras. Before casting her spell, she approached her brother and wrapped him in a hug. He still smelled like the sea, as he always had in life. 

“It is good to have you back, Derek.”

“It is good to  _ be _ back, Jaina. Let’s go home.”

Anduin had told Jaina what it was like when Y/N finally made it home safe. She remembered feeling so glad for the two of them, but knew in the back of her mind, that the bond Anduin and the princess shared as siblings would never quite be what it was before their separation. Standing across from her once-deceased brother now, Jaina understood that to be even more true for herself. 

It wouldn’t be the same, but having Derek back made Jaina feel like one of her hidden wounds began to tend to itself. Carefully, slowly, and tenderly, but healing nonetheless.

~~

The arrows tore through the target dummy easily. Nathanos Blightcaller wished he was shooting at a more... _ living _ target, however. He imagined the dummy’s features being replaced with that of Spymaster Mathias Shaw. He fired shot after shot into his head, wishing he could do the same to the real man. Nathanos’ arm movements were practiced, perfected. Shooting down his target was second nature. But every arrow he nailed into his marks just fueled his rage, rather than quenched it. He preferred it that way.

He pictured Shaw’s life ending as more arrows filled his body. He pictured the human pleading for his life, when Nathanos knew at that point, if this were real, there would be nothing that could save him. That’s what he deserved, after all, for helping his favorite prize escape. 

Nathanos changed the image in his mind to resemble that of the High King of the Alliance. He snorted to himself as he continued to fire at the target dummy, his arrows beginning to split each other as he ran out of room to shoot. His quiver began to lighten. That so-called King was nothing but an ignorant child masquerading as a leader. A barrier to the reign of the true Queen, Nathanos’ own Dark Lady. 

Nathanos imagined Anduin Wrynn with dozens of arrows sticking out of his chest, barely able to whisper out a pathetic beg for mercy. Just like Shaw, Nathanos would not give him such a gift. The Dark Ranger felt his fingers grip around the last remaining arrow in his quiver, and summoned forth some of his dark magic to end his target practice.

The final black arrow blew the target dummy into pieces. Nathanos wished that Anduin Wrynn would do the same. The older brother of his most valuable catch, dissolving into ash in the air. The Dark Ranger did not take kindly to having his things taken away from him, and the bits of the dummy now scattered across the Orgrimmar training grounds were obvious proof. Being deceived by the Alliance in Nazmir was humiliating enough, but to have lost the princess, to have lost  _ her _ at the end of it all was stirring up such a frenzy inside of Nathanos that he hadn’t felt since he was one of the Lich King’s mindless servants. And to add on to it, how she openly defied him not only by escaping, but by turning her attack on him? Nathanos seethed, glaring into the remains of the target dummy.

“The Dark Lady requests your presence, Nathanos,” Dark Ranger Anya stated plainly, her voice being the same apathetic drawl that most of the Forsaken had taken on in undeath. If he were honest, Nathanos hadn’t noticed that anyone else was on the training rampart with him. He might have been embarrassed at his display of emotions, but emotions were for the living. Embarrassment was something he had known in another life.

Nathanos said nothing as he passed the elf, taking the steel steps down from the rampart and back into the streets of the Valley of Strength. It was mid-afternoon, which meant his skin felt hot under the Durotar sun, even through its perpetual chill of undeath. It also meant the streets were packed, every Orgrimmar inhabitant seemingly having somewhere to be and something to do. Nathanos held his head up high, purposely looking down his nose at any who dared stand in his way back to Grommash Hold. 

The crowds parted for him, and the undead man stared straight ahead, acting like he didn’t feel the eyes of the lower members of the Horde watching his every move. If he were honest, Nathanos would admit that he loved being the center of attention. But he was not an honest man.

The Dark Ranger strode into the Hold, surprised to see that it was cleared out of all the unnecessary representatives that normally presided along the outer edge of the room. His Lady must have something important to share, then.

Sylvanas sat relaxed on her throne, and Nathanos’ dead heart thrummed in appreciation at seeing the Banshee Queen in her rightful place. Visions of Anduin Wrynn, the paper king, exploding into pieces returned to his mind, and he tried to keep a smirk from playing onto his face.

“Something amusing, my champion?” Sylvanas asked, the usual mirth in her voice that she only brought out with him. Nathanos stopped walking just in front of the throne, bowing deeply before answering.

“I had just been imagining the end of the Alliance’s boy king, my Lady. It was entertaining to think of so many ways for it to come about.”

“I see. I understand the events of Dazar’alor a fortnight ago still anger you, do they not?” 

If Nathanos was an honest man, he would respond with the truth of his anger, the truth of his desire to take back the princess from Stormwind. He was not an honest man, but Sylvanas was his all-knowing Lady, and Nathanos knew there was no point in lying. He wouldn’t even want to lie to her, anyway.

“That they do, my lady. I’ve been trying to strategize ways to atone for my...shortcomings in a way that is most beneficial to you. And to the Horde, of course.”

“Well fortunately for you, my champion,” Nathanos’ chest puffed up as Sylvanas said this, “there appears to be a traitor in our midst. One who will surely bring an opportunity for redemption for you, in regards to the Wrynn family.” 

Nathanos’ ears perked up at this, but he remained silent, wanting Sylvanas to divulge more information immediately. She obliged, a smirk of her own forming.

“One of our naval ships went missing recently, and was found off the coast of Tanaris two days ago. South Sea pirates, is what I’ve been told. Tell me, champion, how difficult is it to steal a boat?” Nathanos considered this for a moment.

“In all of my years of servitude, my lady, not one of your royal ships has ever been taken. Not by the Alliance, and certainly not by some mangy pirates.”  
“You’re correct, Nathanos. Now, at the same time, our newest companion, the other Proudmoore, is nowhere to be found. Not in Orgrimmar. Not in Dazar’alor. And I don’t sense him within my powers. He was not turned.”

Nathanos said nothing. He knew where this was going.

“Who do you need me to eliminate, my lady?”

“I have my suspicions on who has betrayed us, but I need to set up a meeting with the Council to confer on my thoughts. Where is that tidesage we consulted to find Proudmoore’s body?”

“Zelling remained in Stormsong Valley, your majesty. Warfang Hold.” 

Nathanos thought back to Warfang Hold. He first took true control of  _ her _ there. He had nearly killed Wrynn, but with Sylvanas’ powers, her wounds easily mended. And her mind was easily taken. A shot of anger came through Nathanos’ gut, remembering just how easily she slipped through his fingers two weeks ago. He would have her again. And this time, he would not let her get away.

“Then it’s settled. The Council will meet at Warfang Hold, tonight. I trust you will make the necessary preparations?” Sylvanas asked, standing up from her throne and approaching Nathanos.

“I will, my lady.”

“Good.” Sylvanas ran an armored finger lightly down the side of his face, making the undead man tingle under his ashen skin. Their crimson eyes locked together, holding the same passion that existed in life. But in death, the passion was twisted. More angry, more vengeful. The heat in their eyes came from a desire to bring the world down around them, from wanting to watch it all burn as they stayed standing, just the two of them. 

“You will reclaim your prize, Nathanos. This is just the first step back to her. You’ve always been my most faithful companion. I believe you deserve one of your own.” Sylvanas cupped his cheek in her cold palm, the undead man trying not to tilt his head to lean into her touch. Her truly affectionate words were few and far in between, but Nathanos knew it was not out of disregard for her champion. That was just how undeath was. There was little need for emotion, but a constant desire for revenge. A constant desire for atonement. Every Forsaken fixated on something as their object of vengeance, and for years, getting back to Sylvanas had been his. But now, Nathanos’ object was the one who had just managed to escape his grasp. 

Nathanos departed Grommash Hold, thoughts of Y/N Wrynn flooding his mind. His need for revenge, when it came to her, was not based on ending her life. He did not picture her as the target dummy he destroyed, like he had Anduin. He did not picture her begging for her life, begging him to save her. Nathanos pictured Wrynn begging him to end it. 

If he were honest, deep down in his once-living soul, Nathanos would admit that he would never end her life. He would admit that killing the girl would end his fun, would cut off the satisfaction he got from making the brat  _ obey _ for once. But Nathanos was not an honest man.


	13. Take A Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Same note as last chapter in regards to certain parts of the dialogue. I'll link the videos here for reference.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tWIrrLasJA  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhCChNVv4HQ

Baine’s thick fur bristled as one of his warbraves explained the urgent request for a Horde Council meeting in Warfang Hold. Having them all meet in Stormsong Valley, when the majority of the leaders were in Orgrimmar already? And when the trip from Thunder Bluff to Durotar was far shorter than to Kul Tiras? Baine sensed something was amiss. He knew of only one Horde member who stuck close to Stormsong Valley. Thomas Zelling. The tidesage who had just happened to steal a boat with Baine a few days earlier, who had helped the chieftain deliver Derek Proudmoore back to his sister. The undead man who had helped Baine commit treason. No, this was not good.

Baine made his way out of the large chieftain’s tent he normally called home, brushing past his most loyal warbraves and advisors. He knew it was time to go. The tauren took a long look around him, savoring the way the wind breezed through his braids, kissing his face gently, as a mother would her child. He admired the sky that surrounded him, the last dregs of the afternoon blue changing gently to a warm orange and pink sunset. Baine took in the fresh air, listened carefully to the calm chatter of his people surrounding him. He wished he could bottle it up, take it with him wherever he went. Baine knew the earth-mother was always with him, but where he was headed, his gut told him he would need as much of home ingrained into him as he could muster. Baine knew that whatever happened in Stormsong Valley, it would ensure he was not coming home anytime soon.

The tauren chieftain took one final deep breath in, exhaling slowly as he looked around and tried to commit the faces and details of the day to memory. He walked slowly back to the tent, asking for a portal to be summoned to Dazar’alor. 

Baine straightened his headdress before he stepped through, reminding himself to have the strength of a chieftain as he entered the mouth of the wolf. His father had fallen to a warchief before. Baine might be doing the same. He only wished his death would be on familiar soil, not Kul Tiran land. But maybe this was not his day to die after all.

Thoughts of what the meeting could possibly be about swarmed Baine’s mind as he boarded the  _ Banshee’s Wail _ at the Port of Zandalar, or what remained of it. The husks of the exploded Zandalari fleet faded into the distance as Baine was carried off to Kul Tiras, off to a foreign land, unsure if he would soon call Stormsong Valley his grave. 

~~

The boat landed just as the sun over Kul Tiras began to sink. Baine recalled the sunset that began to form as he left Thunder Bluff, and felt the drag of a long day hang over him. And he had yet to even reach the meeting.

He was the last to arrive. The other Horde leaders stood in a circle around a large bonfire that was just beginning to come alight. He found his place between Zelling and Lor’themar, nodding to each of them in greeting. Sylvanas and Nathanos approached from the other end of the fire, the building flames flickering in their red eyes. Baine did not offer a hello.

Sylvanas started a slow walk around the inner part of the circle, looking at each of the Horde leaders closely as she began to speak. Nathanos followed behind her. He reminded Baine of one of Rexxar’s pets. The only difference was, he could count on the orc’s companions to not rip his throat out. 

“I have troubling news. It seems there are traitors in our midst.” 

Baine straightened up just a bit when he heard this. His suspicions were right. Sylvanas had found out.

“Most of you need fear nothing. But Derek Proudmoore didn’t flee to Kul Tiras himself. He had help.”

Sylvanas stopped right in front of Baine, glowering into him with her lifeless eyes. 

“Didn’t he,” the warchief paused for dramatic effect, “...Zelling?” Sylvanas turned her head towards Zelling just to her right. Baine looked as well, seeing the tidesage’s jaw drop slightly. Zelling wasn’t expecting to be caught. Baine wished he could have warned him beforehand.

Nathanos instantly nocked an arrow, standing only a few feet from Zelling. The tidesage struggled to say something in response, stammering over his words as Nathanos held him at bowpoint. He didn’t have much time. Baine made his decision.

“Stop!” the tauren interjected. Sylvanas turned back to him, quirking an eyebrow.

“I returned Derek Proudmoore to his family. You raised him as a Forsaken, but planned to deny him his free will. To violate his mind.” Baine turned his attention to Nathanos, who still held an arrow tight against the bowstring.

“Just like Blightcaller violated the princess of Stormwind’s mind. He tortured a  _ child _ —”

“She is the  _ enemy,  _ you worthless—,”Nathanos spat, but Baine pressed on anyways. He needed to present his case, not before Sylvanas, but to the rest of the Horde leaders. They were the real ones who had the power to bring honor back to the Horde that Sylvanas had so eagerly tarnished.

“He tortured a  _ child _ , violating her mind and tormenting her within an inch of her life in the shrine room of Dazar’alor, a place of divine worship for our new allies. He spat on the Horde that day when he brought some of the other leaders you see here now, and forced them to join in on her treatment. The Blightcaller called it a demonstration,” Baine explained, his voice building louder and louder, “it was nothing but a cruel  _ game  _ to him. This champion spat on the Horde that day, spat on our  _ honor _ , disregarded the respect we have for our enemies even in times of war. The one he follows so closely does the same day in and day out.”

Baine looked around, hoping the other Horde leaders were truly taking in what he was saying. He made eye contact with Ji Firepaw, who bowed his head ever so slightly. He knew the pandaren had been scarred deeply by the transgressions of Garrosh Hellscream. Baine knew the pandaren recognized the same cruelty in Sylvanas. He needed to say everything he could to get others like Ji to take the step forward and reclaim the Horde for what it was.

“So yes, Sylvanas, I returned Derek Proudmoore to his family. I helped the princess of Stormwind when she was treated like filth. I have kept a firm grasp on the honor of the true Horde.” He spat on the ground before Sylvanas’ feet.

“You are no Warchief of mine.”

Baine felt other leaders near him back up just slightly, tensing as they waited for Sylvanas’ response to his passionate outburst. He braced himself as well, his gut clenching anxiously when the Banshee Queen didn’t react. It was silent for a moment, the tension dancing in the air with the embers of the now largely formed bonfire behind Sylvanas. The evening sky had settled over the Hold. Darkness was here.

“Are you done?” she asked sarcastically, tilting her head to the side.

“You disappoint me, Baine. I would have thought you had learned something from your old friend Saurfang’s success at disobeying me. Where is he now, by the way? Rotting away in a Stormwind prison cell? Stuck in the hold of the same kingdom whose princess you seem to care so deeply for? The same kingdom who wages war against your people, slaughtering Horde soldiers by the thousands every day? You claim the Horde no longer has honor. Pah! The Horde no longer has  _ weakness _ . I’ve brought strength, I’ve brought ferocity back to the Horde! And it is only fitting that my champion has brought the same to his endeavors. Your Horde would crumble under the weight of our strength. Your Horde would be left to burn, left to the ashes. Mine charges over the ruins, into victory. There is no place for weakness in the Horde, chieftain. Your foolish search for honor has made you  _ weak _ .” Sylvanas spat the last word out, leaning in towards Baine. She scowled at him fiercely, looking between the tauren’s big eyes as they glowered back into her. He wasn’t backing down. The Warchief stood back, then turned to Nathanos. She didn’t even say a word and it happened.

Nathanos let the arrow go, the bolt driving through Zelling’s throat with a sickening squelch. The tidesage fell instantly, his cloudy eyes still open, still staring into the night in Stormsong Valley.

“Banshee!” Baine shouted, tempted to rush the undead elf in front of him. Sylvanas looked at him plainly, as if she wished he would.

“Take him,” was all she said, and then four grunts from around the Hold began to surround Baine, leading him away from the bonfire, and back down the hill to the docks. It would not be his day to die, then. Baine wished he could have said the same for Zelling.

“You don’t have to let this go! All of you, all of you who remember the true meaning of what it means to fight for the Horde! Do you see that in the banshee in front of you?” Baine shouted over his shoulder as he was led further away. He caught a small glimpse of Lor’themar watching him leave, the blood elf’s long brows raised in a pained expression. Even he could see how his former Ranger General was ruining the Horde. Baine prayed to the earth-mother than someone else would step up and clear the sickness that was Sylvanas from their ranks. 

As he arrived on the boat, thick shackles were clamped around his hands. He blew breath out of his nose in exasperation. As if he were going to run. No. Baine Bloodhoof would stand and take the punishment for what he had done to bring a sliver of integrity back to the Horde. The Horde his father fought and died for. The Horde each of those leaders came to, the Horde their people joined because it was their place in a world that refused to make room for them. The Horde had become a crushing fist around the values of honor and valor that it had been founded on. Baine didn’t regret the choices he made for Jaina Proudmoore, nor the ways he offered help to Princess Wrynn. If it was called treason to help those in need, then Baine never wanted to be a part of the Horde again. If it took treason to open up the tyrannical hand that held the Horde by the throat, Baine would fight against the faction that he had called his family with everything he had. 

Sylvanas Windrunner was no Warchief of his. Baine Bloodhoof was going to show her what it meant to be one.

~~

I sat in the courtyard just outside of the throne room, and watched Anduin and Genn spar on the green grass. There was a warm breeze coasting through the afternoon air, heating my face gently. As I watched my brother, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my father. 

He used to walk me around the courtyard, his large, callused hand completely surrounding mine. This was where he had told me Anduin’s ship had run aground in Pandaria, where my father told me my brother was missing in a foreign land. I wasn’t quite old enough then to do anything. All I could do was hug my father tightly, because I knew he needed it more than me. That was just before the invasions of Pandaria, just before Garrosh Hellscream nearly crippled my brother with the Divine Bell. A moment of peace, if you could have called it that. It seemed the times of quiet always carried more weight to them then the times of war. 

I felt the same way now. Even though the Fourth War was already far underway, this time back in Stormwind felt like the quiet. I hadn’t participated much in the war, but my time... _ away _ ...had felt like my own battle in itself. The quiet time had been healing in its own way. Anduin had been sticking close to Stormwind these past two weeks, constantly checking up on me, never absent from the throne room for me. 

With my brother close, the whispers had not returned. I couldn’t feel a trace of the magic Nathanos had placed inside of me. I hoped that it had gone away for good, but I knew that when things were out of sight, it didn’t always mean they had disappeared completely. 

But even as I felt surrounded by safety, covered with royal guards and the strong foundations of the Keep, my hidden enemy of guilt still snaked its way to my heart. As I sat in the courtyard, trying to have the warm wind lift my spirits, I still felt myself held down by shame. My mind went to Officer Brady, to Peake. They deserved to feel the breeze on their skin. Not the chill of the grave. I wondered to myself if it even mattered to them, now. 

Over the past two weeks, Anduin, Jaina, and even Genn had all been trying to encourage me away from my guilt. I knew they all had experiences with it, each more drastic than my own incidents. But even after a strong hand on my shoulder, a comforting hug, I was brought back to a set of crimson eyes, an ashen smirk that taunted me. His whispers may be silent, but his presence stuck in my mind. He held the guilt there. He kept the shame within me. I needed to be rid of him, but I hadn’t quite figured out how yet. Would I ever even be free of him? Of his memory? Based on how they talked about their own experiences, it didn’t seem that Anduin, Jaina, and Genn ever let go of those who were involved in their most painful memories. 

I knew Anduin thought of my father. Jaina, and her own father, with Theramore as well. Genn and his son, his kingdom. These were all people they felt they had failed. Nathanos was the one who made me feel like I had failed my own self. He didn’t deserve such a place in my mind. The past two weeks had been full of me realizing this, of me tearing off the tight grip of Nathanos within me, within my mind. But would the hint of his control always follow me? Was this what it meant to be a leader? To have demons hidden within you, that influenced how you help others? That forced you to change for the better?

“Y/N, hop in here,” Genn called, pulling me from the world within my mind, back into the courtyard. Both men had sweat dripping off of them. Anduin wiped his face as he came to sit on the stone bench that I was on. I stood, tightening the band in my hair as I took Anduin’s place across from Genn. I hadn’t let my hair hang loose since I got home. It was something small I could control. And no one would brush a piece out of my face as Nathanos had. There would be no opportunity for a memory there.

Trainings like this had started a few days after I returned home. Genn had come to me one morning as I ate breakfast, telling me to dress in training clothes and head to the courtyard when I was finished. I had changed into a pair of pants, as I wore now, not sure if I would be tripping over my robes if I wore them. He had taught me a series of defensive moves, incorporating both my magic and hand-to-hand combat. I walked away each time feeling a bit more confident in myself, but dreading the day I would have to actually use them. And I knew that day was coming soon.

Today, Genn started off right away. I was surprised he had so much energy after seeing how tired Anduin was leaving their session, but didn’t have time to be shocked as the Gilnean king lunged at me in worgen form. I let my body fall backwards, letting my weight take me to the floor and rolled backwards onto my feet. Genn had taught me this move first. It allowed me to make space between myself and my opponent, and I readied a spell as I rolled away.

I fired an ice lance towards Genn, not putting much power into it since it was simply training. I simply practiced the movement of my hands, the incantation in my mind. Genn paused.

“No spells today, Y/N. You need to learn not to rely on your magic as much.” 

I didn’t like to set my magic to the side, but I knew he was right. I thought back to when my hands had been trapped within those shackles, which trapped my spells within me. I felt powerless then. I wanted to learn how to handle myself when that aspect was out of reach.

I nodded, raising my hands in fists in front of my face, and readied myself to fight. Genn lunged again, but I watched his feet leave the ground just before I went to roll. I adapted to his attack, choosing to run towards him as his worgen body began to leap over me. As he jumped over me, I pushed up on his legs, causing Genn to flip forwards with more momentum than he planned. He crashed into the ground behind me, dazed for a moment, as I turned and advanced. 

I came up behind him, quickly wrapping my legs around his middle and my arms around Genn’s thick furry neck. I locked my legs at the ankles, trapping him in a chokehold as he began to stand up. He pawed at my arms that were linked tightly around his neck, but I didn’t budge. I wouldn’t budge for Nathanos, so I couldn’t when I was practicing on Genn. 

Genn moved his paws behind him, holding my sides closer to him, and I watched the sky tilt up as he slammed us against the grass. I gasped as we fell, the breath being cut off as the wind was knocked out of me. I released the hold on Genn just slightly at this, and he responded by changing back into his human form, making my hold almost useless as a tight grip around a worgen was a loose one on his smaller second form. He slipped out of the loop I had around his neck, unlocking my ankles and quickly flipping himself over as I tried to regain my breath.

Genn had me pinned on my back, my arms trapped against the ground on either side of my head by his hands. 

“Careful, Genn…” Anduin warned from the stone bench. We both looked over at him, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

“I’ve got this down, Anduin. Watch and learn,” I called out to him. Genn looked back at me, getting me focused back on training.

“You know he will want to keep you down on the ground, Y/N. Where do you go from here?” he asked, testing to see my next steps.

“I get back up,” I huffed, then brought my knee up into Genn’s stomach. He grunted, one of his hands loosening just slightly. I pulled it down back towards my body, raising it up to uppercut the older man in the chin. His head snapped up, creating more space between his body and mine, and I grabbed the arm still trapping my other hand, lifting it with all my strength. It didn’t budge.

Genn quickly recovered, his other hand regaining its grip on my free arm and bringing it back to the dirt beneath me.

“No. That will hurt him, but won’t leave you enough time to shift the power. Try it again. Don’t try to get your hands free. Use the rest of your body to overpower him.”

I nodded, taking a quick breath. I looked down at our current positioning, trying to strategize. I noticed our legs overlapped each other, leaving one of mine to the outside of Genn.  _ Using the rest of my body _ . I brought up the knee of my inside leg into Genn’s stomach once again, then wrapped my outside leg around him, pushing hard as his body reacted to the shot to his gut. I twisted, and lifted him off of me just enough that I could bring the rest of my body into the push, and flipped us back over. Genn lay on his back now, my hands now holding his arms to the ground, having shifted the power. I smiled, unable to contain how proud I was of myself.

“Better, but it doesn’t stop here. He won’t let you keep him here for long. You don’t want him to have you anywhere near the ground, remember? You have to shift the power, then get up and back. You’re not using magic here, but making space between you and him lets you cast. Now, what’s next?”

I looked down, taking in how I had Genn pinned. His arms were far stronger than my own, meaning I couldn’t hold him down for long. I needed to daze him and then retreat back. If I lifted my hands to try something, his arms would be free. If I started to stand, he would be back on me in seconds. I looked Genn in the eye, giving him a sheepish look of regret as I prepared my next move.

I spat directly in his face, his head jerking to the side in disgust, and it was go time. I stood up as quickly as I could, sprinting to the end of the courtyard, checking over my shoulder just once as Genn got back to his feet while wiping his face off and flicking my saliva to the ground. I tried not to laugh as I heard Anduin giggle from the bench.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Genn muttered, dusting the dirt off of his training armor, “but when you get away, don’t turn and check. That second of distraction takes your eyes off where you are going, and Blightcaller will take advantage of it. When you get free, you run wild. Do not look back, Y/N.”

He walked to the middle of the courtyard, and I met him halfway. 

“You’ve gotten much stronger, Y/N. Your dedication to learning is benefitting you greatly,” Genn complimented, a small smile coming to his face. I beamed back, letting myself feel proud once again.

Genn bowed, signalling the end of the training, and I bowed back. As I was leaning back up, however, one of his hands snapped up quickly, and trapped itself around my throat, lifting me off of my feet. He didn’t squeeze, just simply held me there. I tried to calm myself down, the movement still bringing back harsh memories to my mind.

“You’re stronger, but that also means he will only fight you harder. He’s had you like this before, Wrynn. What do you do?”

_ What do I do? What do I do? _ The question echoed frantically inside my head. I knew this wasn’t Nathanos, that Genn was just trying to prepare me, but the feeling of my legs struggling for purchase against the grass, and my hands unable to loosen Genn’s fingers around my throat was building a panic inside of me. I knew this type of situation was common. I knew what I needed to do. I couldn’t let my fear overcome what I had learned, what I had practiced. 

I shut my eyes firmly, trying to shut off my panic as well. I knew Genn said no magic, but I was starting to lose my focus. I needed to get out before it turned into a full blown panic attack.

I blinked backwards fifteen yards, the loose hold Genn had on my neck gone in an instant. On instinct, I popped open a portal before I even caught my breath. I kneeled down to the grass, trying to calm myself down. There were still no whispers, no hint that Nathanos was nearby. But my body reacted harshly to movements that replicated my time with him. I looked up to Genn across the courtyard, waiting for him to be disappointed in me. 

He didn’t say a word until he reached me, helping me to my feet. Genn picked bits of grass from my shoulders and gently brushed the dirt off of my arms. I hung my head just slightly, knowing I could’ve done better. Knowing my fear didn’t have to have such a strong effect on me. 

“You did well, Y/N. You are still learning, but you have come so far in such a short time. Don’t be so tough on yourself, princess,” Genn encouraged softly, his accent making his words feel even more comforting. He was silent for a moment, but I didn’t lift my eyes.

“Your father would be proud.” I looked up at this, searching Genn’s face for confirmation. I don’t know why I doubted that my father would be proud of me. I don’t know why I carried myself like I wasn’t worth the love of those who I  _ knew _ loved me. Genn looked at me intently, as if he could hear my internal conflict loud and clear.

“Thank you, Genn.” I meant it. The Gilnean patted me on my shoulders, then ruffled my hair with his large hand.

We went towards the bench Anduin had been sitting on, realizing it was unoccupied. A call came from the throne room.

“Greymane!” Jaina called, looking like she had just returned from Kul Tiras. She sounded distressed. Genn shot a look at me, as confused as I felt. He started towards the Keep, and I followed close behind.

As more of the throne room came into view, more of it was filled with Alliance leaders. Anduin sat on the throne, still in his light training armor, leaning to the side of the chair in stress. In front of him stood Jaina and Shaw, with concerned looks on their faces. I was thankful that it wasn’t concern over me, for once. At least I didn’t think it was.

“Genn, Y/N, we are faced with a dire situation,” Anduin expressed, his voice carrying all of the stress he was exuding on the throne.

“Our spies report that the Banshee has ordered the execution of Baine Bloodhoof.” Shaw looked between my brother and I, knowing how much the tauren had done for our family. My heart sank at the news, knowing that a small part of his death sentence had to be because of me. 

“We must rescue him at once. Jaina, Shaw. I know what I ask of you...to infiltrate Orgrimmar—”

“I will do it,” Jaina answered immediately, her voice set in a confident but sullen tone.

“Are you certain? It’s an immense risk,” Shaw answered, not as convinced as the mage.

“Baine defied his warchief by delivering Derek to us. To me. He’s risked more than anyone.”

I moved closer to the throne.

“He defied her champion as well when he tried to help me in Dazar’alor. He openly disapproved of Nathanos’ treatment of me, when he knew the wrath it could bring onto him. Onto his people. Baine tried to protect me when I couldn’t even protect myself,” I explained, standing up confidently with my proclamation. If Shaw wasn’t sure about rescuing the tauren from Sylvanas, I hoped my words would help convince him.

Jaina looked to me and nodded, clearly proud of me for speaking up for Baine.

“The princess is right. I fear if he is executed, the last hope of a peaceful end to this war will die with him. Peace is worth the risk.”

“Thank you, Jaina. There isn’t much time, so make haste. May the Light be with you both—,” my brother began, before I stepped even closer to the throne.

“I’m going with them.”  
Anduin’s expression betrayed him. I could tell he tried to maintain his calm while he was on his throne, but lost it at my request.

“Y/N,  _ no _ . Under no circumstances can you return to Orgrimm—,”

“Anduin, you have to let me go. Baine helped keep me alive. He absolutely deserves the same from me.”

Genn spoke up from behind me, causing me to turn to look at him.

“We understand that, we truly do, Y/N, but there is too much risk involved—”

“My brother said it himself, Genn. There is not much time. We can’t waste more of it by arguing over this! I want to go with them. I want to save Baine. I am aware of the risks, but I am stronger now. I just showed it to you. And like Jaina said. Peace is worth the risk.”

I turned back to my brother. Anduin’s eyes flickered between my own, his face still contorted in concern. He knew we were running out of time. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to keep me from leaving.

“Please come back to me, Y/N. I cannot lose you again.”

I was surprised at his softness, especially in front of the other Alliance leaders. Anduin had always been gentle-spirited, but in the time he had to rise to the place of our father, a sort of shell had hardened around him as he attempted to command the same respect that Varian had. This show of emotion hit me deep within my soul. 

“I promise you, Anduin. I will make it home.”

I approached the throne, disregarding any unprofessionalism that giving my brother a hug would bring. We embraced each other tightly, just for a brief moment, as I heard Jaina prepare a portal behind us. I released him, giving him a nod of assurance as I stepped away. 

I took a look out to the courtyard one last time, seeing the sunset peeking through the stones. The breeze pushed the leaves on the trees in the courtyard, propelling them forward. I remembered the warmth on my face. It was time for me to move forward as well.

I looked back to the portal. Shaw had already jumped in. I could see a faint image of what looked to be the caverns of Orgrimmar. I was returning to a dark place. I was headed straight into the setting of many of my nightmares. There was no guarantee that I would even come across Nathanos again, but there was no promise that I’d make it to Orgrimmar and back unscathed from his presence. But walking in a living nightmare would be worth it to rescue Baine Bloodhoof. I steeled my mind, and headed into the jaws of the beast.


	14. Run All Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!

I stepped through the other side onto a large circular platform, with a ramp leading down into another room.

“Sylvanas is holding Baine deep within the halls of Orgrimmar. We’ll need to make it to the Underhold. This way,” Shaw instructed, leading us down the ramp. In the next area, several large goblin mechanicals stood around the room, though stationary. The room was clearly an engineering station, with tables filled with wrenches and tools scattered about. They looked like they had been recently abandoned, like the room had been cleared quickly. Something felt off.

“This would be the perfect time to destroy some of the Horde’s arsenal,” Shaw hinted, raising a dagger towards one of the mechs. I furrowed my brow. 

“We’re not here for them, Shaw. We need to keep moving,” I answered, earning a bit of a sigh from the spymaster as he moved on. I looked to Jaina, who gave me a small nod of approval at my response.

Shaw led us towards an iron gate that separated us from the rest of the caverns, and began picking the lock. Jaina and I stood guard behind him, although no one came to halt our progress. The locks clicked, and the iron spikes slid back down into the ground. We pressed forward.

The next room felt more familiar to me. It was similar, but not quite the same, to the one I had been in a few weeks ago. The room where my mind had been broken. I shuddered slightly, telling myself it was the damp cold of the caverns, and not the chill of my memories. This room was unoccupied as well, with three large sets of wooden doors on each end of the room. Shaw started straight ahead, looking quickly around every few steps, then started picking the locks on the newest door. Jaina and I once again prepared to defend him.

The large door to our right creaked open slowly. I readied a spell, prepared to fire it at any hostiles that came through. I was just about to send it over when the two cloaked figures who emerged stepped into more light.

“Jaina?” one of them asked, pulling his hood from his face. The other orc kept his hood on, and his axe gripped tightly between his huge hands.

“Thrall?” Jaina replied, as surprised as the orc was. Shaw threw a look over his shoulder, a slight frown appearing at the sight of the two orcs. 

“The Alliance...here?” the other orc asked. Even under his hood, I could make out the ends of white war paint on the bottom of a green chin. Thick white braids hung out as well. I thought it looked familiar.

“Saurfang, we’re here to save Baine, just as you are. We have no time to explain. We need to work together and get to him, quickly,” Jaina commanded, just as Shaw unlocked the next set of doors.

“She’s right. Let’s get moving,” Thrall agreed, and we all ran into the next room. Shaw hung back slightly, running next to me.

“Keep your eye on them, princess,” he warned. I gave him a bit of a confused look in return. Of all the things to be afraid of down beneath Orgrimmar, Thrall and Saurfang were the least of my worries. I was more concerned with the empty goblin engineering room, and the lack of security as we made our way deeper into the caverns. It was not sitting right with me, the fact that we were gaining entry so easily into the heart of the Horde capital. This place had taken an entire Horde and Alliance army to penetrate through back when Garrosh was warchief, had it not? Something was off, and I was keeping my eye out for someone else. I listened closely in my mind for any hint of a whisper.

The next room felt like a lucid dream. I felt I was walking awake in a nightmare. Far ahead, I could make out two large wooden pillars, and a figure between them. The high ceilings above me felt like they had been implanted in my dreams. The room was intimately familiar to me. I felt my pulse quicken as we proceeded further in.  _ I am safe here, I am surrounded by allies. Jaina and Shaw will protect me. Thrall and Saurfang will not hurt me. I am safe here. He is not here. He is not here. _ I repeated all of this to myself, trying to breath deeply as we ran.

As we got closer, I could make out the thick chains connected to the pillars. They extended towards the center, pulling two thick tauren arms apart. Baine Bloodhoof knelt weakly between them, his head barely lifting to acknowledge our presence. My heart ached. I couldn’t let my mind go to what they could have possibly done to the chieftain. It was too dark a place, too raw of a memory. 

Shaw immediately went to one of the shackles on Baine’s wrists, inspecting it closely. I looked around the room more, still unsettled by the lack of Sylvanas’ presence, or even that of her followers. Even that of her champion. As much as my stomach dropped at this, I knew he would make an appearance somehow. He  _ had _ to. And I needed to be ready for it.

Jaina touched my shoulder gently.

“You alright in there, Y/N?” she asked cautiously, and I nodded fervently. I couldn’t have her worried about me, not when we needed to free Baine and get out. 

“I’m okay. Just...this room is familiar to me.” Jaina gave me a sympathetic look, understanding my lack of explanation. We both looked to Shaw as he spoke once again from beside Baine.

“These locks are warded against magic. I’m going to need time to pick them myself.”

“This feels wrong. Sylvanas had to have known we were coming,” Saurfang huffed. I nodded in agreement.

Just then, the sound of a large group teleporting into the room came. In front of Baine, a blood elf mage was flanked by two Dark Rangers. A large purple crystal floated behind them, and connected to three other crystals surrounding the room in a square. I felt drained all of the sudden, like the frost, fire, and arcane within me were muted. I shot a look back to Jaina, who glanced down at her hands before meeting my gaze. She must have felt it too. The crystals must have been inhibiting our magic, then.

“Indeed she did, traitor! You and Lady Proudmoore,” the blood elf in front of us taunted. 

The three elves in front of us weren’t my biggest concern. I was more worried that I recognized the Dark Rangers. I remembered Nathanos giving them orders at various times when we were aboard the  _ Banshee’s Wail _ . 

And they recognized me. They shared a knowing look with each other. One of them teleported out, just as they had arrived. Not good. My heart started to pound. He would know I was here.

“I have no quarrel with you, Hathorel!” Jaina shouted back, to which the blood elf rolled his eyes. 

“Have you forgotten the purge of Dalaran, murderer? Today the Sunreavers will be avenged!”  
“Then your vendetta is with me, and me alone!”

“No. You will watch your friends die, just as I did! Dark Rangers, attack!” Hathorel commanded. The remaining Dark Ranger behind him nocked an arrow, just as another teleportation sounded. I stepped back behind Thrall just slightly. 

His crimson eyes found me there anyway, and a deadly smile found its way to his face.

“Now, Hathorel! I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?” Nathanos Blightcaller called, walking forward to stand next to the mage. Hathorel’s eyes remained fixed on Jaina, and Nathanos’ were on me. Like two hunters focused on their prey. But I would not become a prized kill today.

Thrall stepped even more in front of me, shielding me from Nathanos. My hands felt shaky, my breath still quick and a layer of sweat making its way to the surface of my forehead. I tried to calm myself down, tried to remember everything Genn had taught me. I tried to think about the hand-to-hand combat I knew, tried to not be consumed by my fear. My magic was still weak within me because of the crystals. I would have to fight up close and personal.

_ I can defend Baine. Nathanos is here, but that doesn’t change anything. I can defend Baine. _ I convinced myself of this over and over as I unsheathed my small spellblade, wiping my face with my sleeve and taking one final deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. 

“By all means, Nathanos. Join in on the festivities! Rangers, kill them all! For the Sunreavers!”

Saurfang and Thrall charged forward. I followed. Hathorel completely ignored the three of us, an arcane bolt shooting past us, aimed at Jaina. Saurfang took one of the Dark Rangers, while Thrall went to battle with the other. That just left Nathanos. 

He lazily nocked an arrow into his bow across from me. I clenched the hilt of my blade in my palm, glowering into him. 

“I have to be honest, princess, I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Journeying back to the Underhold, all to save your tauren friend. Very brave of you!” Nathanos jeered, aiming his bow right at me. I ignored his monologue. This was no time for conversation.

I charged at him, feeling encouraged by the free movement of my legs without my robes on. He fired haphazardly, the arrow flying way past my body. Like he purposely missed. I didn’t have time to think on it before I lowered my shoulder and tackled Nathanos to the ground as hard as I could.

I landed on top of him, holding my spellblade against his throat. His bow scattered across the floor. Nathanos’ hands were held open up by his face, feigning surrender. I searched his face frantically. What was he planning? Nathanos began to chuckle darkly as he watched me try to figure him out.

“Oh, how I  _ missed _ you, Wrynn. I see you’ve recovered from the last time we were here together, hmm? That fire has returned to yo—”

“Shut up! Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slice you open right now, Blightcaller!” I spat, pressing the blade closer to his neck. His smile only grew.

“Because,” he quirked his head just slightly, as if I was missing the punchline to his joke, “that would ruin all the fun.” Before I could react, Nathanos surrounded my wrist with his larger hand and squeezed tightly, forcing me to drop the knife. He grabbed it with his free hand, sitting up as he lunged at me. I scrambled backwards, but not far enough, as Nathanos overcame me. He held the blade just over my mouth, the cold metal ghosting over my lips. He began to giggle as I trembled beneath him. Nathanos discarded the blade to the side. I turned my head to watch it scatter across the stone floor, too far for me to reach anymore.

“Why so  _ shaky _ Y/N? You seem to have forgotten. I’m not here to kill you. At least, not yet,” he explained, wrenching my face back to meet his with a hand on my throat, before leaning in closely, “I’m here to own you.”

His little moment was thankfully interrupted, as I felt his hand pulled away from my throat. Saurfang tackled Nathanos to the side, much more easily than I had earlier. The two struggled on the ground as I got back to my feet, grabbing the blade from the floor a few yards away.

“Y/N! Come help me destroy these crystals. We can’t go anywhere with them up!” Jaina yelled to me. I ran over to the nearest crystal hanging in the air, stepping over Hathorel’s now dead body to do so. We both channeled what remained of our magic in at the same time, and cracks quickly appeared in the shard. It burst open, shattering on the ground within seconds. A surge of energy returned to each of us. 

“You take the one across from us, I’ll get to the back of the room!” Jaina instructed, making her way to the crystal behind Baine. I ran to the one to Baine’s left, and began channeling into it. Moments later, the two were shattered and I started towards the final one in the front of the room.

Saurfang and Nathanos were still struggling on the floor, trading blows as each tried to gain the upper hand. They were fighting right near the last crystal, so I had to run around them to reach it. I began to destroy the final one when a loud choking sound came from behind me. The crystal shattered to my feet, magic returning to me fully as I turned around to see each of my allies suspended in the air by thick black smoke curled around their necks. Jaina remained free in the back of the room with Baine, and was working on a portal. She shot me a concerned look from across the room.

Nathanos stood facing me, arms extended out as the dark powers channeled out of him. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat as he held three of his enemies in the air. I knew I had gotten stronger, but had neglected to realize our time apart had allowed him to grow as well.

“Release them!” I yelled, holding my spellblade out in front of me. Nathanos cackled.

“Or what, princess? You’re going to hurt me with that kitchen knife?” he taunted, flexing his arms and making the smoke wrap tighter around the necks of Shaw, Thrall, and Saurfang. 

“Blightcaller, let them go! You’re not here to kill them, remember?” I couldn’t believe what I was saying as it came out.

“Let them go. I will stay.” Nathanos’ smile widened at this, but his hold on them remained. My allies’ kicks were getting less and less powerful. 

“Nathanos!  _ Now! _ ” I demanded. He answered me with a hand stretched out towards me, black smoke sent now at me as he suspended the men with one arm. The smoke found its way around my neck, and suddenly my ears were overwhelmed with the whispers. The magic tugged me powerfully towards Nathanos, pulling me off of my feet to be eye level with him as I now fought for my own air.

“You’ve clearly forgotten your manners, Wrynn. What do you say?” A shock ripped through the smoke, filling my body with unbearable heat as it felt like each of my nerves were electrocuted within me. This was no metal chain around me like in Stormsong, but the effect was the same. I yelped in pain, kicking my feet out.

“ _ Please-, _ ” I choked, and Nathanos dropped the men to the ground. They all coughed on the floor for a moment, before quickly regaining their composure. Saurfang looked like he wanted another shot at Nathanos, but a yell from Jaina interrupted him.

“All of you! Into the portal, now!”

“Jaina, the prin-,”

“ _ Go! _ ” I croaked, all of Nathanos’ energy now focused on the hold around my neck. I watched as they made their way to the portal. Shaw glared at me ferociously, but I hoped it was more a frown of determination than anger. We had saved Baine. That was what we came here to do. 

Nathanos released me, letting me fall to my hands and knees as I coughed air back into my lungs. I raised my head weakly as my allies reached the portal. Thrall and Saurfang helped Baine through. Shaw followed. Jaina and I held eye contact for a long moment. She was hesitant.

“I made a promise, Jaina! I will keep it!” I hollered, my voice rough and scratchy in my throat. She furrowed her brow, gripped her staff and jumped through the portal. It disappeared behind her.

Once again, I was alone with Nathanos. I hung my head, shifting just onto my knees. I didn’t have enough strength to stand. But I had enough to escape.

Nathanos tutted as he circled me. I felt like I had been here thousands of times before. Only this time, I had a plan. It was time to get out. I meant what I promised to Anduin. I would make it home. I readied a silent teleportation spell. I knew I was too weak to make it as far as Stormwind, but I could try my best. 

“So  _ heroic _ ,” Nathanos drawled, sarcastically placing a hand over his never-beating heart, “Staying behind so your friends can escape? Ugh, so  _ admirable _ !” I said nothing. I would let him have his fun, for now.

“We’re back to the silent treatment now, are we? You truly didn’t learn a  _ thing _ from our time together, did you Wrynn?” I looked up at him blankly, feeling the magic pulse in my hands as the teleportation spell began to finish up. I pictured lush green forests, just like Elwynn, as I tried to set my destination. The trees kept warping into palm trees in my mind, the green grass appearing more as desert rocks below me. I didn’t recognize the place, but it would have to do.

“No matter. We have plenty of time to reteach you. You’ll remember why you can never ignore me. I’ve learned from our past, Y/N. I’ll be playing you close to the chest this time.”

I coughed out a laugh at this as I began to see less of the Underhold around me, and more of my newest destination. I was nearly out of here.

“You seem to be hard of hearing, Nathanos,” I spat, my spell finishing, “I made a promise. I intend to keep it.”

I didn’t even wait to see his reaction as I pulled myself out of the Underhold. The damp caverns seemed so silent compared to where I ended up. The ground beneath me was hot and dry, and it was clearly a busy place. I got to my feet, finding myself in a crowd. Large desert rocks rose high into the air around me, with giant iron ramparts built into them. Thick red Horde banners hung down from them. 

I was still in Orgrimmar. I twirled around quickly, trying to get my bearings. I noticed the palm trees around me that I had envisioned, and the crowd I was in was mostly made of taurens. I didn’t recognize the area of Orgrimmar I was in, but the flow of the crowd was leading down a thick path to a different part of the city. I ducked through it, hoping to be mistaken for a blood elf as I darted through the Horde capital. 

I passed through a large set of gates, and recognized the path from my previous visit here. I passed the caverns opening, seeing the backside of Grommash Hold now in front of me. I needed a plan. I could steal a ground mount and ride out of the city, getting Horde soldiers  _ and _ Nathanos chasing after me. I couldn’t teleport myself again, I knew. I didn’t have enough strength just yet. But it gave me an idea.

I remembered the portal room Nathanos had led me through from Dazar’alor. If I could make it there, I could jump anywhere on Azeroth. A shout sounded from behind me as I passed the front of the Hold.

“ _ Stop her! _ ” I knew that voice. I knew the fury behind it very well. Nathanos had made it out of the caverns quickly. 

I turned around with the rest of the crowd, seeing Nathanos pointing a thick grey finger directly at me. His face was contorted in a dangerous scowl, much like I had seen back in Dazar’alor. He was fuming. I couldn’t hang around to see what his anger would make him do. Before the crowd could react, I broke free on the side and sprinted towards the portal room.

The Horde took notice of me now. A single human running for her life through their city? Not something they saw every day. I reached the gates, speeding past the two grunts stationed there. I trapped them in a frost nova as they raised their weapons against me.

I skidded to a stop, turning sharply left into the portal room. The mages within gave me a strange look, but thankfully didn’t comprehend my intrusion before I found the portals. 

The images flickered in front of me. Dazar’alor, what looked to be a town in Pandaria, some place on the Broken Isles, and then a round building with a purple roof. Dalaran. Perfect.

I jumped through just as an arrow flew past my face, lodging itself into the wooden pillar beside me. He was gaining on me.

More chatter filled my ears as I arrived in Dalaran. I sprinted away from the portal room, needing to create as much space between it and myself. Nathanos was hot on my heels. 

Greyfang Enclave was on the other end of the city. I didn’t have to worry about being attacked here, but if I didn’t make it to the Alliance sanctuary then my chances of keeping my promise to Anduin would slim down dangerously. And if Nathanos caught me, I wasn’t even sure I’d be alive to make another promise ever again.

I weaved through the crowds, dodging Kirin Tor guards and various adventurers. I shot a look over my shoulder, seeing no pursuers from the portal room. Just as I did it, I remembered Genn’s warning to me.

_ When you get free, run wild. Do not look back, Y/N. _

I wished I kept that in mind just a second too late. I turned my head back to see myself crash into a fruit stand, and felt the wood of the stand crunch from the force of my running full speed at it. 

I apologized profusely as I frantically got back to my feet, hoping the stand owner didn’t realize the Princess of Stormwind had just ruined their produce for the day. I sprinted around the corner, blinking the daze of the collision out of my eyes. My body ached from the crash, but I had to keep moving. I could see the blue Alliance banners hanging just down the street, along with the worgen who were standing guard. I didn’t check to see if Nathanos was close. 

“Hey!  _ Hey! _ Help me!” I yelled, trying to get their attention. The worgen looked at me confused, then their eyes caught onto something behind me.

A scream ripped out from a nearby civilian as an arrow lodged itself into the gut of one of the worgen. I kept running. I reached the entryway into the Enclave, the remaining worgen speeding past me to engage with my pursuer. I sent a prayer to the Light for their safety.

“We’re under attack!  _ Hey! _ The Enclave is under attack!” I yelled, getting the attention of the guards in the room. The worgen rushed out of the area into the street, and I looked around for the Stormwind portal.

The spot that normally housed the portal was empty. I couldn’t go back just yet, it seemed. I picked a different one immediately, knowing the worgen wouldn’t be able to hold Nathanos back for long. But I also knew if I jumped into a portal, he could easily follow me. He couldn’t if he didn’t know where I went. I wrangled two nearby mages over.

“I need you two to listen to me, quickly! I’m on the run and I need your help. I’m going to jump into one of these portals. I need you two to pick a different one and go through once the guy chasing me comes in. We don’t have much time!”

They said nothing, just giving me a confused look.

“Look! Just trust me, please! I need you to help me distract him. I’ll pay you a thousand gold each if you do this for me. I promise!” That seemed to get their attention. They each agreed, then went to stand on either side of me. I tried to catch my breath as I heard more screaming come from the street. Portal jumping was easier than teleporting myself, but with every travel across the continents I was becoming weaker and weaker. I shook my head again, getting myself to jump for what I hoped would be the final time, at least for a while. A gold temple shimmered in the portal in front of me, not like Dazar’alor, but it reminded me of pictures Anduin had brought home from Pandaria. I gave one final look to the mages to my right and left.

“Remember, right when he comes in!” I reminded them, and jumped through.

The hustle and bustle of Dalaran was silenced immediately as my feet hit the smooth stone ground in a different warmly lit room. My arrival startled some nearby pandaren who chatted quietly in the corner. I waved a small hello, speedwalking out of the room. My whole body felt sore, both from crashing into the fruit stand, and from multiple portal hops. I wanted to take a rest, but knew it was safest to just keep moving. I could sleep later.

I came to a grand staircase, and recognized the Shrine of Seven Stars. It was just as beautiful as Anduin had described. The pictures he had shown hadn’t done it any justice. But unfortunately, I had no time to relish in its beauty. I was too weak to jump through yet another portal, but I knew of a safe place to go. 

Once I reached the entrance of the Shrine, I began to run again. I approached the flight master, bartering for a flight to the Veiled Stair. Anduin had spoken extensively about an inn there, and I knew Nathanos wouldn’t think to look for me there, if he even knew I was in Pandaria. The pandaren that managed the flights wouldn’t let me fly for free, though. I had no gold on me, no proof that I was who I claimed to be. I huffed a breath, then unsheathed my spellblade from my waist. 

The pandaren raised his hands defensively, and I realized I looked like I was sticking him up for a free flight. I turned the blade around quickly, handing it to him by the handle. He looked to the blade, then back at me, seeing the royal Alliance seal on the hilt. He quirked an eyebrow, then gave me a cloud serpent. 

“Wait. Your cloak, too,” I demanded, and he untied it. I pulled it over myself, the hood sitting low over my eyes as I climbed onto the serpent. He patted the mount twice, and off we went.

~~

I arrived at the Veiled Stair late into the night. The events of the day and several portal hoppings began to weigh on me as I trudged up the stairs to the warm glow of the inn. I kept my hood over my face, and found a place at the bar in the darkest corner of the room. I slumped onto the chair, ordering a small plate of food and a mug of water. I didn’t know how I would pay for it, but it didn’t matter. I was too tired to care.

The inn’s main room was mostly empty this time of night, save for two drunk pandarens across the bar, and a trio in the back of the room. The two women in the group stood on either side of a human seated at a table, a large turban on his head. The women, a human and an orc, watched me as I entered. They didn’t look at me directly now, but I knew they were watching as I glanced over.

The man looked up at me, his red eyes staring at me long and hard. I knew my cloak covered the majority of my face, and I was sitting in the darkest part of the inn, but it felt like he could see right through me. I turned back to the bar as my food arrived. Why was it that red eyes followed me wherever I went?

I tried to eat slowly, but ended up scarfing down the delicious pandaren noodles and broth that had been given to me when I remembered I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. I had sat at the royal dining table then. Now here I was, on the run from Nathanos, smack in the middle of Pandaria. I was alone, no money, little strength, and now no spellblade. I tried to make a game plan as I finished the last dregs of the meal. I knew I couldn’t travel further tonight, meaning I would be stuck in the inn for a few hours. Tomorrow? I would try to teleport myself home.

My thoughts were interrupted by someone sitting in the chair directly next to me. It was the man with the red eyes and turban. His two lady friends followed, one coming to stand in the corner behind me, and one remaining behind the man. I hadn’t even heard any of them move. 

I peered at him from under my cloak, waiting for him to say something. He just looked at me, and just like with Nathanos, I knew there was something not fully human about him. But I didn’t distrust him. His red eyes carried a different sort of warmth that Nathanos would never understand. He smiled softly as I thought this. I figured I should say hello.

“Hello, um. I’m Y/N—,” I started, reaching a hand out to greet him. The orc woman stepped slightly closer. A warning.

“How’s your brother, Princess Wrynn?” the man asked immediately, his smile widening. Again, his grin was not malevolent like Nathanos’. I tried to remember Anduin speaking about a friend he had made in Pandaria. I vaguely recalled him speaking of a mysterious man…

“He’s...he’s good. I’m sorry, what was your name?” I asked.

“Wrathion, my dear. What brings you to the Veiled Stair?” he answered plainly, like we had been friends for years.  _ Wrathion _ . Now it made sense. Anduin had talked of many things of his trip to Pandaria, but Wrathion had only come up a handful of times. Each story with the man in front of me seemed to carry a different weight than the others did. 

Knowing that Anduin had made friends with Wrathion, I hoped that it made him allied with me as well. The bartender walked over to me, looking at me expectantly. I needed to pay. The orc woman behind Wrathion tossed a small coin purse on the table, which the pandaren accepted with a nod.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“You’re welcome, Princess Wrynn. But I ask again, what brings you to Pandaria? Even I don’t frequent here as much as I used to, back in my days with your brother. There are other battles to be fighting, it would seem.”

“I’m trying to find my way back to Stormwind. Sylvanas Windrunner was going to have Baine Bloodhoof exec—,”

“I’m aware. But you travel alone. Did you save Baine yourself?”

“No, there were others. We were ambushed in the Underhold by Nathanos Blightcaller. I...I chose to remain with him so the others could escape.”

“That was very brave of you, Princess Wrynn.” His words had no hint of sarcasm or evil. Anduin may not have talked of Wrathion much, but I was enjoying my time with him so far. He seemed to have a similar gentle demeanor to Anduin. I felt closer to home, even as I sat in Pandaria.

“Thank you.”  
“What happened next, then?”  
“Well...Jaina Proudmoore made a portal for the rest of the party and I was left in the Underhold. I had been…captured...by Nathanos before, and knew I wouldn’t survive more time with him. He, well, he tried to mind control me. Some weird dark magic that he said Sylvanas gave to him. But anyways. I teleported myself to the surface of Orgrimmar, and then ran away. He pursued me into Dalaran, but I think he lost me. At least I hope he did.”

I didn’t know why I was sharing all the details with Wrathion, but I appreciated how he sat quietly and just took in all the information. He nodded every so often as I spoke, showing me he was listening closely.

“And what does that magic do to you, Princess?” 

I tossed around the question in my mind. I knew what it did, but speaking it out loud to someone, let alone a very  _ new _ friend felt weird. It had become a piece of me that I locked down deep within, something I was too scared to even unlock and look into on my own. I remained silent, trying to figure out how to communicate this.

“I’m sure you’re aware of who my father was, Y/N. He was ruined by his mind. I often fight my own battles within as well. Whatever you share will not be foreign to me.”

His assurance was nice, but I also felt like his words were somewhat of an invasion into my thoughts. I was tired of others thinking they had free reign over my mind. I took a deep breath, choosing not to grow angry with Wrathion, but to open up to him, like I should’ve at home with Anduin.

“I guess the best way to describe it would be whispers. They sound like my own voice talking to me, but it’s nothing I would ever choose to say to myself. It’s always what Nathanos  _ wants _ me to do. And when it’s really bad, if I don’t obey them, the magic hurts me. If I do listen, then it makes me feel powerful.”

Wrathion was quiet a moment, simply nodding his head in comprehension.

“And you’ve talked to Anduin about this?”

“No, I haven’t. I...I didn’t want to worry him. He saw the effects on me one time, when Nathanos basically forced me to fight my brother. But once I made it back home to Stormwind, I didn’t bring it up. I figured if he saw me physically recovering, he would think my mental state had recovered as well.”

“Princess, may I give you some advice from experience?”

I nodded, taking my hood off. 

“Our bodies may be strong, but if our minds are not well-guarded, then we are lost. And the mind is a terrible thing to waste. You may not have the influence of the Old Gods within you as I do, and as I know your brother has heard before, but the rule is the same. Guard your mind, and the rest of you will prosper in turn.”

“How am I supposed to do that? It feels like everytime Nathanos controls me, he does so without resistance. Like I can’t stop him from getting in, no matter how hard I try.”  
“There is always a way, Princess Wrynn. I can sense traces of his magic within you, which can easily be removed. Would you like me to try?” he asked, leaning in closer. I wanted to immediately agree, but my eyes began to grow heavy as we spoke. The warm broth was settling in my stomach, warming my whole body up. I wanted to go to bed. Wrathion must have noticed.

“I...I want you to try, but I am too weak for it right now. I need to find a bed.”

“Of course. I will show you the way.”

Wrathion stood, offering a gloved hand to me as he helped me off of my chair. He led me upstairs to where the rooms of the inn were stationed. He waved a hand, and one of the wooden circular doors unlatched without issue. It opened up, revealing a cozy bed and a small side table. I immediately entered, slumping down onto the bed.

“I will help you home in the morning, Princess Wrynn. Rest well.”

Wrathion and his two constant companions disappeared as the wooden door shut itself, closing me off from the inn and from the rest of the world. I felt myself drift off almost immediately, praying to the Light that Anduin knew I was keeping my promise. He would be surprised at how I was doing so, but it wouldn’t matter once I made it home. I imagined myself asleep in my own bed in Stormwind Keep, and one of the longest days of my life finally ended as my eyes closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrathion quotes: https://wow.gamepedia.com/Wrathion#Mists_of_Pandaria_2


	15. Release, Reclaim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Hopefully the 8000 words make up for my time away. Enjoy, and let me know what you think! :)

I squatted down low behind the fountain, watching as my mirror image made a break for one of the tunnels. I saw the arrow pass through her, but as real as the moment felt, it was like I had been there before. I gazed up at the chapel looming over the square, seeing the moonlight pass through its large stained glass windows. I felt frozen in place, as if time had stopped. The moonlight brightened my robes, making me feel angelic as the white of the material shined proudly into the late night air. 

Hushed whispers sounded from the other side of the fountain, causing me to turn and look. I peeked around the stone, seeing Nathanos staring back at me intently. He fired another arrow, too fast for me to dodge. That wasn’t how I remembered.

The pain in my shoulder interrupted any confusion I had. The arrow pushed me backwards, making me land it as I hit the stone ground. I felt it move around violently, tearing the muscles there as I fell. 

I hadn’t even blinked before Nathanos loomed over me, his crimson eyes a strong contrast to the moonlit windows of the church. I tried to cry out, to scoot away, but my voice was lost within my throat, and my body refused to budge. I felt trapped inside myself as he stared down at me. There was no one else with him. This wasn’t how I remembered. 

His mouth wasn’t moving, but I could hear his voice wafting clearly through my ears. 

“I believe Wrynn has already found us.” The words echoed in my head, almost familiar, but too far away that I almost thought I was imagining them. 

In the next moment, I was standing up, closer to the tunnel leading to Lion’s Rest. I could no longer see Nathanos, but I felt him. His plate armor was solid against my back, his gloved hand pulling my neck up closer to him. I couldn’t feel the arrow anymore, but this felt like a memory. I could feel the leather of his glove, but the chill of his skin underneath lingered. Was that what I could sense in this moment? Or was this all a memory? Did it even happen at all?  
“I can smell your fear, _Princess_.” I felt his hot breath in my ear. I jerked away. I blinked, and my surroundings changed. I could see Stormwind in the distance, smoke rising from the Dwarven District. I knew the cold of the shackles would greet me below deck. I wanted to run while I could. I sprinted towards the edge of the deck, preparing to dive off into the sea. I heard a shout, and as my hands touched the water, it all changed again. 

I was underwater. I tried to bring myself up for air, but something was holding me down. My lungs constricted, clenching up as I ran out of oxygen. I felt myself begin to scream, the sound muffled by the water as I slowly lost the strength to even make a noise. I felt my hair tangle on the back of my head as I was yanked up and out of the water.

The dim blue lights of the shrine room filled my vision as I coughed for air, crumpled weakly on the ground. Nathanos kneeled next to me, quirking his head sympathetically as I sputtered. He pushed my soaked hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. My initial reaction was to jerk away, but his hand remained, cupping my jaw gently. It was a warning, I knew it. 

When Nathanos stood, the shrine room shimmered around him. I felt a breeze begin to push through my hair, and felt dirt beneath my fingertips as I remained on the ground. Rolling hills surrounded me, but just to my right, I saw a smoldering building in the distance. Just in front of the fire, there were dead soldiers scattered about in the dirt. I could see one of their heads was turned towards me. I recognized the face, the wrinkles, the seasoned look. I knew I had seen them before. 

The bodies began to multiply as I remained on the ground, Nathanos watching me as more and more appeared. They piled on top of each other, each one with their eyes still open, staring intently at me, as if they were alive. I scrambled backwards, but Nathanos had moved behind me, blocking my way. I recognized more and more of them. The six from Stormsong. The soldiers from Nazmir. Officer Brady stared at me. Tears welled up in my eyes as I brought my knees to my chest, cowering in fear at the scene before me. My own name began to echo in my head, like a thousand different voices calling out to me. Calling out for help, for mercy, for me to look their way, to do  _ something _ . I knew some of their owners...others, I would never know, and that somehow made it worse. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair, I heard Anduin call out for me as he joined the pile. His blue eyes stayed fixed on me as they clouded over. I covered my face and sobbed.

“You need me to punish you because you feel you deserve it.” 

The calls for help were replaced with one single voice. The snark dripped off of his words, his domineering tone surrounding my thoughts. I peeked out from where I hid my eyes, finding Stormsong Valley long gone, and the caverns of the Underhold surrounding me once more. 

“It pains me to hurt you this way, Y/N.” 

Nathanos was no longer standing behind me, and I found myself no longer curled in a ball in the dirt. I knelt before him now. 

The whispers returned, but it was only my own voice I could hear. I was convincing myself to obey him, to submit to him. I heard myself speak in my head, but those words were foreign to me. The searing pain within my body and mind returned. I felt as if I were being split in half. I began to cry out, arching my back as if I could escape the agony. Above me, Nathanos watched in silence. 

“No it doesn’t,” I choked out, surprised to hear my actual voice. I heard the crack before I felt the skin on my cheek tear as Nathanos punched me across the face. I watched my blood drip out to the floor. The dark ground of the Underhold warped again beneath me. I watched white stone surround me once more. My blood trickled through the cracks.

“I told you I would make you bleed all over the streets, Y/N. I keep my promises.”

I was squatting in front of the fountain once again. I turned towards the water. Nathanos’ image wavered in the pool as he stood behind me. I looked down to see myself. I saw my face, but my eyes had been replaced with red. I no longer saw myself. I only saw him when I looked at me. 

Blood continued to flow from my nose as my brow wrinkled in fear. I saw Nathanos’ face get closer to me in the reflection. A hand was on the back of my head again, and I felt myself be forced once more to the water. 

Just as I felt the liquid on my nose, I jerked upwards, finding myself back on the bed in Pandaria. I was back, but I didn’t feel awake. I decided it was time to get up. 

I pushed the wooden door open, making my way downstairs, then out to the cold morning air that surrounded the inn. The tavern was empty, save for the bartender who was dozing off behind the counter. I saw no sign of Wrathion.

I don’t know why I was outside. The sun was barely beginning to rise, the nearby birds chirping quietly as they woke up. I stood at the door of the tavern, looking out into the lightening land. I noticed movement coming up the path towards the inn. I moved my hand to my spellblade, just in case. My brow furrowed as I felt nothing, the sheath on my belt empty.

The figure had approached quickly.

“Are you looking for this?” he asked from under his hood. I knew the voice. I stepped backwards, closer into the tavern. I needed a shield of some sort. Nathanos presented my spellblade, but as he held it, I noticed there was deep red blood all over the blade. 

“Why are you here?” I asked, my throat dry. I told myself it was from sleep.

“Why  _ am _ I here, Y/N? Are you thinking about me?” 

“You have no power over me here, Nathanos. You need to leave.”

“Where is here, Y/N? Where are you?”

The question confused me. How could he not know where I was? The golden mountains surrounded with mists, the flourishing fields of crops in the valleys below...there was nowhere like Pandaria in the Eastern Kingdoms, nor in Kalimdor. Why was it not evident to him?

“I’m far away from you,” I answered. I wasn’t about to tell him where to come find me.

“Not far enough, it seems. But in truth, you will never be far enough away from me. I would join you at the tavern, but I have other, more important matters to attend to.”  
I gripped the edge of the door, narrowing my eyes at Nathanos. 

“It’s humorous, almost. Your brother, the ever-peaceful boy king...and yet he seeks to bring war right to Orgrimmar’s gates. A show of bravado, is it? Presenting himself, another failed attempt to command the respect that your father received?”

I knew Nathanos’ words were meant to irk me, were meant to taunt me, but in all honesty, I had no idea what he was on about. Why _would_ Anduin be at the Horde capital?  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”  
“Ah! Of course. You’ve been absent from your kingdom for a bit, haven’t you?”

“It’s been a day—” I started, confusion mounting in my mind. The scenery around me wavered just slightly. My head began to feel as cloudy as the mists that weaved around the mountains around me.

“You’ve lost track of time, pet. You don’t know how long you’ve been gone, do you?”

I remained silent. Nathanos didn’t need to be clued into my confusion. He began to cackle. 

“Well, look at that! The princess, escaping to Pandaria, leaving her insolent brother to take on the might of the Horde. It seems all you do is abandon those you care about, hmm?”  
“I didn’t abandon anyone, Nathanos. I stayed back so they could escape _you_. Did you forget I made it out too? That I eluded you?” I came out from the cover of the tavern door more. No more hiding. Nathanos’ laugh went silent. He glared at me.

“How furious was Sylvanas with you? How did you break the news that Baine, the leader of the resistance against her escaped under  _ your _ watch?” I stalked closer and closer to Nathanos, heating my hands with fire, just in case.

“How did she react to you failing her again?”

Nathanos swiped my spellblade towards me with a growl, but I stepped back before it could connect. He slashed at me quickly, advancing on me faster than I could focus a spell towards him. Suddenly, a blast of magic came from behind me, hitting Nathanos square in the chest and knocking him off of his feet.

“ _ Enough _ ! You are not welcome here!” Wrathion boomed, and I watched Nathanos’ figure on the ground shimmer into nothingness. Pandaria wavered around me once again.

“Y/N, come back up. The time for rest is over.” I turned to look at Wrathion, but found the tavern doorway empty. How had his voice been so clear? The inn itself began to shimmer, everything around me warping as my mind clouded over, and then burst into clarity as I came into true consciousness.

I sat up in bed, seeing the wooden door once again, but this time I knew I was awake. Everything around me felt more solid, more tangible. Wrathion sat on the edge of the small bed, looking at me intently as I wiped my eyes. I noticed how much of a sweat I worked up in my sleep.

“Do you have nightmares often, Princess Wrynn?” Wrathion asked gently, his voice not near as commanding as it had felt while I was dreaming.

I dabbed my damp forehead off with my sleeve, trying to wake myself up further. I knew Wrathion already had the answer to his question. I nodded silently anyways.

The wooden door behind Wrathion was closed, but I knew just outside, his bodyguards were standing by. I knew they could hear our conversation, but having the room alone with my new acquaintance felt grounding. I was alone in a room with someone who wasn’t actively trying to hurt me. At least, as far as I knew, Wrathion wasn’t trying to. 

I looked up at him, finding his red eyes patiently waiting for more information. My nightmares were not something I would so easily describe. I knew they were just extensions of my worst fears and most hidden memories. I wasn’t going to just put them out in the open for someone I had met the night before. Was it the night before? My dream of Nathanos had confused things for me. Wrathion still asked anyway.

“What do you see in them, Y/N? Can you make sense of your dreams?”

I remained silent, playing it off that I was still waking up. We both knew it was a ruse. In reality, I didn’t want to share, and my head was pounding even after what I assumed to be a long rest. I rubbed my temple with the base of my palm.

“I see all kinds of things, Wrathion. But seeing as they make me wake up in a cold sweat, I would hope you can understand why they’re not things I want to go into detail on,” I replied plainly, pulling my boots back on. I absentmindedly felt my for my spellblade, my hand coming up empty on my belt. A wave of remembrance came over me, both of the dream I just had, and of the day before. Nathanos had gotten my blade. Was that real? What had that meant?

“You do not have to divulge every single aspect, but I believe it would be to your benefit to at least give me an idea.”

“And why is that?” The beginnings of impatience made their way to my mind. I thought back to why Anduin didn’t talk about Wrathion much. Maybe that was one reason.

“Because I believe I can heal you, Princess. I believe there are things within you that harm you now, that can be used to set you free.”

If I had heard that way back in Dazar’alor, I might’ve hopped right on board. But just like I was fed up with others thinking they had free reign over my mind, I was tired of others telling me I was something not quite what I could be. That wasn’t for them to decide. It wasn’t even for them to find out. 

“As thankful as I am for all your help here, Wrathion, I don’t think that’s for me. I just want to go home.” I stood up from the bed, and started towards the door when Wrathion stood up from his chair. He didn’t outright hold me from leaving, but his body stood enough in the way of the door that I understood the prince’s message. We looked at each other a moment, his chin tilted slightly downwards due to the height difference. It reminded me of what it was like to have an argument with Anduin.

“I do not mean to interfere with a safe journey home, Princess. But what I offer you will allow you to get back to Stormwind, back to your brother  _ fully _ . Not a shade of who you used to be. Not a shadow of who you could be. I can help you.”

I sat back down on the edge of the bed, staring at my feet. In all honesty, his words felt like they carried too much meaning compared to what I was going through. I just wanted to go home. I didn’t need a deep dive into my psyche, into my past, present, or future. But seeing as Wrathion remained standing, I knew we would be jumping into the deep end very soon. Maybe it was good for me. I sighed.

“And how exactly would you do this?” I asked quietly, raising my eyes once again to meet Wrathion’s.

“I’m going to take you back, so that you can move forward. We need to address our pasts in order to reclaim our futures.”

I didn’t even know what that was supposed to mean. Wrathion simply extended a hand to me. I took it, standing up from the bed, and suddenly we had left the room without ever walking through the wooden door.

Orgrimmar rose all around me in the next instant. We stood right within the gates, Grommash Hold looming proudly over us. It was exactly how it looked when Nathanos had brought me here the first time, when he brought me in front of Sylvanas. When he introduced me to the Underhold. When I lost a part of myself to the caverns beneath.

I instinctively pulled my hood over my face, hoping none of the inhabitants would notice my arrival. I knew  _ he _ was on the lookout for me. Wrathion touched my forearm in reassurance.

“They cannot see you here, Princess. In fact, there is no ‘here’ at all. This is a memory. Tainted by trauma, but not lost to the darkness. Let us begin.”

He started walking towards the buildings that lined the right side of the Durotar canyons. I followed him immediately, knowing we were headed for the inn. We walked inside, and within, it was like living the same day all over again. I could see a flicker of Nathanos as he spoke to the innkeeper. I stood just where I had the first time, waiting for the bathroom door to be unlocked. I held my breath as Nathanos approached with the key. Wrathion must have sensed this.

“Remember, he cannot see you. He is not real, Y/N.”

Even with his reminder, the breath remained trapped inside my chest as Nathanos’ shade walked past me as he had that first day and opened the bathroom door. I walked in, shut the door behind me, and looked around the room.

The same too-big towels lined the shelves. I walked slowly towards the soaps, lifting up the same ones I had tried the first day. I smelled them, wondering if I would still notice hints of mageroyal, or if I could smell the fresh rainwater that I had cleansed myself with. The candles still flickered softly as they had the first time. I looked to Wrathion.

“Why are we here?”

“I was going to ask the same of you, Y/N. Why  _ are _ we here?”

The question floated around my mind as I took in more of the details of the bathroom. I remembered how it felt to sink into the washbasin and scrub off the grime and soot from my body. I remembered how I had to convince myself to stay calm as I dunked my head underwater to wash my hair. I remembered the warming spell I had used to dry my hair once I exited the bath. I remembered finally feeling physically clean since I had been taken from Stormwind, but this had been the day where my inner self had been dirtied. I hadn’t been able to fully clean it since.

“This is where I lost, Wrathion.”

The answer came more into my mind as I said the words aloud. Further explanations made themselves known to me as the silence filled the room, as I stared blankly at the soaps that had ended up not cleaning me how I had needed them to, deep down within.

“This is where I thought things would be okay. I told myself things would be normal because of how mundane a bath felt. Because I could imagine myself being back in Stormwind here. This was after Stormsong Valley. After Peake and his men died for me. After Nathanos killed them because of me.

“It’s where I tried to wash away my guilt with soap, but it remained. It smelled like rainwater instead of dried blood after this. I lost here. I gave myself hope that it would be okay, when it only got worse from this day. I only broke further because I gave myself hope in this room.”

Wrathion stood silently next to me in the bathroom. I watched the candlelight dance ahead of me, thinking back to the torches in Dazar’alor. I hadn’t thought of them in a long while, I realized. That had been the past.

“Have you had troubles bathing in Stormwind, Princess?” I snapped my head over to look at Wrathion, a shock of anger rising as I thought he was making light of my situation. His face was as collected as I had ever seen it, in the few hours I had known him. He was being serious.

I thought about it for a moment. I had been struggling with bathing, now that he had mentioned it. I wasn’t afraid to enter the water, nor did I dislike feeling clean. But when my whole body would be overcome with the water, then I would just be reminded of painful memories. I always pushed off those thoughts as me being afraid of water. It was a common fear, was it not?

“I think it would be smart for you to take another look around the room, Y/N. Observe the details. Live in your memory, for a moment.”

I didn’t understand what Wrathion was going for here, but if playing along meant getting home to Stormwind sooner, then I would.

I took another look around, starting with the door, looking into the soaps, the towels, the bathwater below me. I should have been able to see my reflection in the water. I noticed the candles, the warm lighting of the room that we were in but not in reality. It all seemed like pretty simple stuff. A standard bathroom at an inn.

“I don’t think I notice anything special, Wrathion. Am I supposed to?”

Wrathion smiles knowingly, then shook his head.

“No, Y/N, and that is just it.” He still had me lost.

“You talk about this place being where you lost. Where you lost hope, where a part of you came to die, did it not? Where you tried to wash the guilt of the past off of you. And yet all you can see is just the mundane. All you remember is what was physically in the room with you.”

I wanted him to get to the point. I said nothing.

“Y/N, this day was undoubtedly a traumatic and difficult one for you. You think these memories to be tainted by what you think you remember, but as you physically stand in the past, you can only find the parts of the world that were there with you in the moment. No emotions, no mental battles. Soap. Towels. Candles. Water.”

“Just because my emotions aren’t included in this little memory you’re making doesn’t mean that they weren’t there that day. I remember this room so clearly  _ because _ of my feelings.  _ Because _ of how I felt when I sat here the first time,” I countered, starting to feel defensive. Wrathion may not have said it explicitly, but it felt like my feelings were being completely disregarded. I didn’t understand how this could be helpful in the slightest.

“Then you can use what you felt, and fix the memory without changing the past, Princess. You can untaint it, without altering the facts of what happened to you.”  
I furrowed my brow, feeling myself grow more frustrated.

“How is that going to help me? Part of the past is what I  _ felt _ , what I experienced emotionally in those moments. I can’t just replace them.”

“You don’t have to replace them. You just don’t have to keep avoiding them. Our memories house some of our deepest wounds. To truly mend them, we need to look them dead in the eye. We don’t wash over them and pretend the bad emotions never happened. We take them one at a time, meeting them as an old friend. Or an old enemy that was never truly against us.”

“What am I supposed to do?”  
“Well, it seems to me you’ve already reintroduced yourself to the pain of this memory. You explained how you remember feeling in this room. Now take the mundane parts of the room, the _facts_ of your memory, and have them tell you the truth about what this part of your day was.”

I kept looking around. The soaps were the same every time I glanced at them. The water rippled gently, even as nothing was in it. The candles continued to flicker in the same way. It took me a long while to piece together my thoughts. Wrathion didn’t rush me, nor did I rush myself. I could see what he was trying to get at, and I knew it would be best for me to give myself time and space for once. To not be so focused on moving on that I ended up going forward without having healed at all. 

As I cycled through the pieces of the room, the physical  _ facts _ of my environment, just as I remembered them, I began to understand. This day had been marked in my mind as one of the worst of my recent memory. But when I separated my feelings about everything from the day itself, I could see that yes, I had been hurt, but in order to heal, I had to make that past just another day. Making it another day, just another memory, albeit a painful one, I took ownership back. Nathanos didn’t get to claim this part of my mind. Taking my memories back was a way of taking my life back from him. I started to speak again.

“It wasn’t the day I lost. Because I haven’t lost. It was just a day,” I offered quietly, my voice gaining more strength as more words found their way out of my mouth. 

“A day where I bathed in the Horde capital, where I thought deeply with myself about my future, where I expressed certain fears with myself. I had an emotional conversation with myself, and gave myself hope because I knew I needed it. I didn’t lose this day. I survived it. And I am thankful for this memory.”

As the words flowed out of me, a sort of weight seemed to come off of me. A lingering soreness remained, but I knew that was a part of healing. Sore did not mean I was injured, it did not mean I was still bleeding. The weight lifting and my soul relaxing once again was me getting stronger. Just like muscles felt after a long day of training. Stretched, aching, but not hurt. No longer was I entrenched in the trauma of this day. I was simply strengthened by it.

“Very good, Y/N. You are doing marvelously. Are you ready to continue?” Wrathion asked quietly.

I took one final look around the bathroom. Rather than feeling the anxiety of remembering what happened shortly after this memory, I was encouraged. I stood up a little straighter. I chose to take in the details of the room, the warm light from the candles, the smells from the soaps, the touch of the towels, and claim them as a nothing more than a memory. Nothing more than a day of the past. Not something that had such a hold on me any longer. Not a place of lost hope, but a stepping stone to survival. 

I followed Wrathion out of the room, exhaling heavily as we left. He patted my shoulder lightly, as if he were proud of me. I was proud of myself, quite honestly. I wondered what else Wrathion had for me.

“I believe there is one more place we must return to in your memory in order to help guard your mind, Princess. This one may be more painful, more difficult to free yourself from than the bathroom. Are you prepared to do so?”

I considered this for a moment. As challenging as that process had been, I knew the only way to get back to my life, to truly move on was to continue with Wrathion’s work. 

“Let’s keep going. I’m ready.”

I took Wrathion’s hand once more, and we were off. The Orgrimmar inn transformed around us. The cots I remembered hanging on the walls all around the circular room disappeared, replaced with tall, white stone walls, which had a bluish tint due to the night sky. Before the memory even fully developed around us, I knew where we were. And I knew Wrathion’s earlier warning had been correct. This one would take more out of me than the bathroom had. 

Cathedral Square looked just how it did in my nightmares. Every detail of it had been ingrained in my mind, once because it was my favorite part of the city, of my  _ home _ . Now, I knew every part because this was where my life had been changed. Where I had been taken from my home. 

Wrathion and I stared silently up at the chapel, its white roof gleaming in the moonlight. I turned around, seeing the fountain just behind me. I walked up to the water, looking down. I expected to see myself, but found no reflection staring back at me. 

This was where I had hidden myself that night. I looked to the left, seeing the tunnel where Officer Brady had been murdered because he came to help me. Because I abandoned him in the Dwarven District. Because I had been selfish, had wanted a walk on my own, when he had told me several times it was not safe. And here I was, still alive, but my selfishness had cost Brady his last breath. I felt my face contort into a grimace as I stared deep into the tunnel. This was much more difficult than the bathroom. Much more had happened here.

I walked around the opposite side of the tunnel. Wrathion followed me silently, just observing. I looked into the Trade District tunnel, where Genn had come from that night. He had been a force of fury and wrath, but when he had seen me captured by Nathanos, I remembered how his ears lowered. He had been afraid then. I had been, too. I remembered looking at Genn while Nathanos had pulled me close to his chest. I remembered Nathanos’ very first warning towards me, how he taunted that my blood would cover the Stormwind stones if I made his escape too difficult. I shuddered as I remembered the Dark Ranger’s breath in my ear that night. Genn had tried to save me that night, but I had pleaded for him to let us go. I had been the one to make Genn stand down. I had let myself be captured.

I turned once more, shaking my head, before looking at the tunnel that led out to Lion’s Rest. I walked through it, and continued on, walking down the stone steps towards the harbor. This was where Jaina had tried to stop Nathanos too, where she had tried to save me, and where once again, I had sealed my fate. I remembered how I had screamed out to her to let us go, where I had first taunted Nathanos myself with my words to Jaina. I kept walking, stopping at the edge of the wooden dock. I remembered that first sting of Nathanos’ slap across my face, the first reprimand for my defiance. I had had no idea how things would escalate.

Having walked through all of the areas that had been tainted by this night in my memory, I decided to have a seat. I turned around and faced the city as I sat, looking up at the silhouettes of the districts rising into the night. I saw the smoke billowing out of the Dwarven District, just like I had watched it that night, when the merchant ship carried me away from home, when it carried me towards my change. I simply sat there, letting the painful memories and emotions rise. I needed to let them come to the surface before I addressed them.

Wrathion stood next to me, still not having said a word since we arrived in this part of my past. I wondered what he thought about this memory. Did he feel the pain I felt? Did any of it come through to someone outside of myself?

“What are you thinking of in this moment, Y/N?” Wrathion asked, ending his silence. I thought about my answer, trying to piece together what it was I wanted to say. I kept my mouth shut for a few moments. Wrathion simply waited beside me.

“I made it home from Dazar’alor a while back. But ever since I was home, I never really left the Keep again. I haven’t seen these parts of the city since this night. And I’m just thinking about how sad that is, quite honestly.”

“Why sad, Princess?”

“Because...well, because I’m realizing now how much fear has stopped me from just being _home_. I’ve let the pain of this night in particular take over. A single night, and it overwhelmed every other _good_ memory I have of Stormwind. It makes me sad how quickly my pain defined what this place meant for me.”  
Wrathion didn’t respond right away. I looked up at him, seeing his face turned down to me in a small smile.

“Y/N, do you realize how important those words are for you?”  
I quirked my head at him, unsure. Wrathion continued on.

“For you to walk through the city once more, knowing that the last time you walked these streets was on a night full of pain and fear, that in itself is incredible. Y/N,  _ that _ is who you are. You are the one who takes the trauma of her past and not only lets herself heal from it, but gets stronger because of it. You sit here, just like I said you needed to, and are addressing your past openly, in order to reclaim your future.”

His words were encouraging, but I didn’t know how to respond. I remained seated, waiting for him to continue. Wrathion sat down next to me.

“Y/N. You recognize how this one night in particular affected your entire view of your home. You see how the pain affected you. Which means you have the power take that same pain, and remove its power, its control over this memory. Just like with the inn in Orgrimmar. You can take this back for yourself, princess. You can reclaim your home. And when you return, no streets will feel off limits to you.”

We sat there looking at each other for a long moment. I glanced between his red eyes, appreciating their warmth. For once, I didn’t immediately think about Nathanos’ own crimson eyes. I smiled a bit to myself, then nodded to Wrathion in understanding. I looked back at the city, and watched the smoke continuously billow out of the Dwarven District, as if it were on a loop. The smoke rose and rose into the night sky, dissipating into nothingness. I took a deep breath in, holding it as my eyes followed a new billow. When the smoke disappeared, I exhaled.

As I breathed out, I let go. The fear of Cathedral Square, the fear of the tunnels. The memories dissipated, not into nonexistence, but their pain shimmered away. I let go of the stone beneath my feet, the wooden docks, of the city skyline. In, out, I breathed, and I released myself from the trauma of this night. I closed my eyes, simply breathing. I felt myself sit up straighter as I continued. Just as it had happened in the bathroom, I felt a weight lift off of me.

Any blame I had over myself for what happened this night, it faded with the smoke. I felt my magic thrum within me, which surprised me, but I let it happen anyway. Any fear of Stormwind, of my own  _ home _ , it vanished. I was taking it all back from this night. From Nathanos. I was reclaiming it for my own. 

I exhaled heavily one final time, before standing once more. Wrathion got to his feet as well, then looked at my expectantly. I glanced at the buildings up above me once more, treasuring how I felt at home again, even in my memory. I felt home again in my own mind. In myself. Within me, my heart burst with joy. A sore joy, a strengthened joy. A healing joy. 

Without another word, Wrathion extended his hand to me once more.

“You did well, Y/N. Are you ready to return?” he asked, his voice gentle. I nodded a confident yes, and the Stormwind of my memory faded from sight.

I released Wrathion’s hand once more, finding myself seated once again on the plush bed in Pandaria. The warmth of the inn wrapped around me, bringing me back to the present reality. The wooden door was still closed, but some light was seeping in from the cracks in the walls, bringing in a dimmer evening hue to the room. I was glad I was sitting down, because the late light and a sudden tiredness swept over me. I felt like I had both just woken up and hadn’t slept in awhile. How long had we been inside my head?  
“You’re going to feel the effects of the treatment for a few hours. I know you may feel sluggish, so going back to bed may be your best course of action,” Wrathion offered, stepping towards the door. As appealing as sleep sounded, I was reminded of why we did the whole treatment in the first place. I wanted to go home healthy, and now that I had been healed, it was time to get moving back to Stormwind. I started to stand, but Wrathion turned around suddenly, and helped me back onto the bed as I got lightheaded almost immediately.

“Careful, princess.”  
“I want to go home, Wrathion,” I pleaded as he helped my head hit the pillow behind me.

“I know, Y/N. We will leave in the morning. Just go back to sleep.”

“I want to go home. I’ve been gone too long, Anduin will worry—,” I began, my words starting to slur just slightly.

“Anduin will see you soon enough, princess. You’ve been gone a week, but you are safe. Just one more night.”

Even as I began to doze off, my mind caught onto Wrathion’s slip up.

“ _ A week? _ I’ve been here a week? He doesn’t know where I am!” I panicked, starting to rise once again. I remembered my dream from earlier, where Nathanos taunted me about my brother being all alone against the Horde. I realized his comments about my absence had been true...which only meant that Anduin going against the Horde had to be true as well. I wanted to be home more than ever, now. 

Wrathion placed a single hand firmly on my chest, holding me down firmly but without a hint of a threat. I realized I trusted him, even as my panic made my heart thrum rapidly.

“I understand that, princess. I knew you would not agree to the process if you knew how long it would take. But I promise you, you will see him tomorrow. Much is to happen in the coming days. You need all the strength you can get. Please, Y/N. Go to sleep. We will leave first thing in the morning.”  
As much as I wanted to argue more with the prince, my body started to sink into the bed and I knew it was time to just listen. I nodded slowly once as Wrathion removed his hand from my chest and headed out the door. The wooden door shut once more behind him, and I began to sleep.

I greeted my dreams as an old friend. No nightmares stalked around for the first time in a month. I slept soundly, the sounds of Elwynn Forest greeting me as I waited for home to come back to me.

~~

“I think it is time we get you home, Princess Wrynn. Shall we?” Wrathion asked, waking me up once more, turning my attention to the Prince standing beside me. He held out his arm politely. I stood, stretched away the sleep, then wrapped my arm around his, as if we were about to enter a royal ballroom. 

The wood that surrounded the inn faded away as I felt stone materialize once again beneath my feet. Home again in Stormwind Keep, and finally,  _ finally _ , I felt truly home in every part of my being. 

A relieved expression turned my attention towards the throne. 

“Princess Wrynn!” Shaw exclaimed, starting over immediately from beside the throne. He bowed before me when he reached me, but I ignored his civility. I walked closer, hugging him tentatively as I noticed the empty throne. Anduin must have been gone after all. I had expected to greet my brother. 

Shaw stood awkwardly stiff for a moment, before his arms wrapped around me too. I felt like I had when I had been rescued from Dazar’alor. Only this time, my mind was not held captive by fear and guilt. I felt like myself again.

Shaw released me, stepping back once again and holding his arms behind his back respectfully. His eyes quickly glanced over my face and body, checking for any injuries in my absence. His eyes broke away from me to someone behind me. The spymaster’s ever-calculated look returned to his face as he brushed past me.

Wrathion stood behind me, smiling as Shaw approached.

“What brings you here, dragon?” Shaw asked, with more suspicion in his voice than I was used to hearing. Wrathion chuckled quietly, shooting me a knowing look.

“Ah, Mathias, I am in my human form. You can address me as Prince,” Wrathion quirked, smirking playfully at Shaw. I grinned slightly, noticing the tension in the room at Wrathion’s arrival. I wonder how it would have been different if Anduin was home. 

“No matter. Princess Y/N here escaped to Pandaria, quite admirably, after the events in Orgrimmar. We met in the Tavern in the Mists, and I took the liberty of assisting her on her way home. I helped her through certain healings that I believe your royal medics could not.” Wrathion’s sass surprised me. 

“And how long was she with you for, Prince?” Shaw asked, a hint of hostility rising in his words.

“About a week, but I’m sure you were already aware of this, were you not,  _ Spymaster _ ?”

Shaw’s moustache drooped slightly as he prepared as response. His brow furrowed and the well-worn lines on his forehead reappeared.

“We were not aware, which is why your appearance here is a bit of a surprise. You were in Pandaria all this time, and yet never bothered to send a single message to anyone in Stormwind? The king has been going out of his mind in fear that his own sister is alone on Azeroth somewhere, and yet an old friend of his was with her the whole time—”

“Ah, well my  _ old friend _ Anduin must know that his sister is more than capable of being alone in Azeroth. Did he know how she cleverly escaped the Blightcaller? I apologize, I could possibly have explained it all in a letter, but as warmly as I have been greeted in person, I assumed my correspondence over mail would be greeted with suspicion and hostility as well,” Wrathion answered sharply, his grin remaining on his face. I looked between the two men as they continued to argue, even without saying a word. Shaw huffed, then spoke once more.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding, Prince,” he said through gritted teeth, “I believe the kingdom of Stormwind owes you a thank you for your assistance to the Princess.”

“Too bad the king himself isn’t here to thank me,” Wrathion joked, before asking, “By the way, where is Anduin? It is not like him to stray from the Keep often.”  
“In the days following Baine’s rescue, my king and the orc Saurfang have put together a resistance against Sylvanas. They are mounting an attack on Orgrimmar tomorrow morning,” Shaw answered matter-of-factly. It dawned on me that Nathanos’ words to me as I slept were confirmed. I needed to get to Orgrimmar. I needed to help my brother, and help take down Sylvanas. I needed to help take down Nathanos. 

Wrathion looked to me, seemingly knowing what I was thinking. I expected him to warn against me travelling back to the Horde capital once more.

“Shaw, I believe Princess Y/N will play a crucial part in her brother’s success against Sylvanas Windrunner. I would suggest that you depart with her immediately to Durotar.”  
My eyes widened as he spoke. Someone actually _recommending_ me for a task? My heart swelled slightly as I listened to Wrathion’s recommendation. Shaw looked at me as well.

“Are you sure you’re capable of doing so, Princess? If you feel it would be safer to remain—” Shaw began, before Wrathion cut in.

“I assure you, Y/N is more than capable of this. She is not a little girl anymore, Mathias. I would suggest that you start treating her more like a queen than a child. Just as you would Anduin. She is stronger than before. And I believe it would do your king well to see his sister as herself again.”

I smiled softly at Wrathion, who nodded once at me in return. Shaw considered me for a moment, before nodding himself.

“So be it. Let’s get you some new armor, then we’ll be off,” he turned back to Wrathion, “and thank you, once more, for your assistance. You were a valuable ally to Stormwind.”

Shaw turned and headed towards the royal armory. I took a moment to stop and thank Wrathion myself. I hugged him, just as I would Anduin, and whispered into his chest as he embraced me as well.

“Thank you for everything. I...I wouldn’t be here without you. I wouldn’t be back to myself without your help.” 

Wrathion grabbed my shoulders gently and held me out in front of him, considering me.

“Well, that’s just it, Princess. You  _ would _ be here without me. You are stronger than you think. Don’t forget it. You are capable of much more than you can imagine,” he encouraged, grinning once again. His eyes looked even warmer than before.

“And, you’re welcome. Tell your brother I said hi.” I giggled and nodded, smiling at my new old friend once more before turning and following Shaw. 

My feet padded gently on the familiar stones beneath them, and I relished in the fact that I didn’t feel the need to watch my step as I walked. I was home, I was myself, and I was unafraid. Nathanos had tried to warp my life into something else, had tried to make  _ me _ into something else...I went the opposite way. I was contradicting him. I was becoming the other. And I couldn’t wait to tell Anduin.


	16. As the Dust Settles

Shaw and I reached Durotar within hours. We didn’t speak much on the way there, but it was fine with me. As peaceful as I felt within, I still had a lot going through my mind. Anduin about to start another siege on Orgrimmar, Saurfang and other members of the Horde helping him, and Wrathion’s comment about me playing a crucial part in all of this...they all swam through my mind as the heat of Durotar came back to me. 

After taking a portal to Theramore, we approached the capital from the south, passing over what Shaw explained to be Razor Hill. As we got closer to the gates, I started to see just how large of an army my brother had managed to put together. It had to be thousands of troops, Alliance and Horde alike, and that was just at the front of the gates. I knew the city would be surrounded, which only meant there were thousands more beyond where I could see. 

Shaw led me to a hut nestled between some of the troops that formed ranks around the city. A royal Stormwind soldier and an orc grunt stood guard outside, each giving us as nod as we entered.

The shade of the room instantly cooled me as we stepped in, and my eyes adjusted to the dim light around me. Our arrival interrupted the meeting happening around the command table within the hut. 

“Y/N!” Anduin exclaimed, moving around the table, his full armor clanking as he came towards me. He hugged me as he had when I first returned to Stormwind, unashamed to show emotion even around Saurfang and Thrall.  
“Where were you? What did...what happened?” he asked quickly, checking up on me. 

“I can tell you later. What matters is I’m here, and I’m alive. I think you’ve got more important things on your hands,” I smiled, and led Anduin back to the table. He nodded, clearly happy to see I was safe. As safe as I could be, just outside of Orgrimmar. 

My brother went back to his spot on the opposite end, and seemed to kick back into king mode. 

“My apologies. Back to the matter at hand. As I was saying, us three will lead the attack on Orgrimmar from the front gates. Saurfang, you will make the call, and Greymane and his forces will assault the western gate from the Barrens. Shandris Feathermoon and her sentinels will mount an attack from Azshara. Each entrance will be under attack simultaneously, leaving Sylvanas to spread her troops thin. Once we get one down, it should go smoothly from there.”

“And what is the plan once we infiltrate the city?” Saurfang asked, a hint of expectation on his deep voice.

“We capture, but do not kill Sylvanas Windrunner and her accomplices. If they use force, so do we. But justice will be brought to her fairly, even as she was not fair to others.”

“What about all of those inside the city? They may not be the Banshee’s loyalists. What if they simply seek to defend their homes?” Thrall questioned.

My brother was quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the maps below.

“We will instruct the soldiers to head directly for Grommash Hold. There is no need for—”

“There is no need for any of this,” Saurfang announced solemnly, and he clambered out of the hut in a hurry. Thrall, Anduin, and I followed him. The orc commander made his way towards the very front of the ranks, pausing and looking up at the archers lining the walls of Orgrimmar. He turned to us before speaking once more.

“There is no need for this. Sylvanas has forsaken the honor of the Horde...but the Horde still remains. And those still inside the city, fighting or not, they are our brothers and sisters. I will not spill their blood just to have hers.”

“Varok—,” Anduin tried.

“You stood with me bravely, human. Just as a true king would. And you,” he said, now looking at me, “you helped rescue the whole resistance, an act of sacrifice only a true Wrynn could perform. But that is all I can ask of you. The Horde must ultimately regain its own honor. This is the final step.”

“Old friend, wait. If you are to do what I think...please. Take this.” Thrall unsheathed his axe from his belt, handing it to Saurfang. Anduin considered this for a moment, not fully understanding, before unsheathing our father’s blade from his own belt. He looked Saurfang square in the eye as he presented Shalamayne to the orc. Saurfang nodded at each of them, taking one of the massive weapons in each hand.

Saurfang turned from us, then walked alone into the empty space between the thousands of soldiers and the gates of Orgrimmar. 

“ _ Sylvanas Windrunner! _ I challenge mak’gora!” he shouted, his voice echoing over the walls of his city. I noticed a shift in the Horde troops around the gates, as if they were all keyed into what he just challenged. This was big.

A minute later, the gates slowly swung open. Out stepped Sylvanas, flanked by a Forsaken flag bearer, and Nathanos himself. They walked slowly, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Like their priorities were elsewhere, even as their enemies surrounded them. They stopped just across from Saurfang. Sylvanas turned and accepted two sharp blades from Nathanos, who bowed as he presented them to her. I hoped it would be his final act of service to her. I hoped this would be her final death.

Sylvanas walked closer to Saurfang, the two of them standing face to face in the middle of an army. I shot a look to Nathanos as they circled each other. He merely smirked at me, turning his attention back to the duel about to happen.

“Let it be finished.” Saurfang muttered, then charged. He raised the axe first, bringing it down heavily towards Sylvanas. She raised one of her thin blades upwards, the metal clanging loudly throughout the desert as she easily blocked his first swing. Before Saurfang could move, she sliced her other arm towards him, connecting in his gut. He fell forwards with a grunt, and Sylvanas moved around him swiftly cutting him here and there with her blades. From where I was standing, I could just barely see purple and black smoke rising from Saurfang’s skin. I looked once more to Nathanos.

The Dark Ranger didn’t meet my gaze, his attention fully engaged in Sylvanas’ battle. He seemed to be enjoying this. It made me sick, although it didn’t surprise me.

“The High Overlord…” Sylvanas purred as Saurfang knelt before her, his chest rising and falling weakly, “I trusted you.  _ They  _ trusted you. Death comes, old soldier. And with your death, their hope dies as well.” The banshee walked behind him, dragging her blade along the orc’s back. He regained his breath.

“You cannot kill hope,” Saurfang answered simply, slowly getting back to his feet. I straightened up slightly at his words, remembering them to be what Baine encouraged me with in Dazar’alor. 

“You tried in Teldrassil. You failed. Hope remains,” he started, swinging once again at Sylvanas. He knocked her backwards.

“You sent us to kill each other in Lordaeron. You failed. Here we stand. You just keep failing!” Saurfang shouted, accentuating his last few words with a strike against Sylvanas. She continued to be pushed further and further backwards.

“The Horde will endure! The Horde is strong!” Saurfang brought Shalamayne down onto her, forcing Sylvanas to bring both blades up in defense. The orc spun, splitting my father’s blade back in two as he turned back to face her. He swung once, was blocked, then followed with the other sword. Saurfang cut Sylvanas across the face. She paused in shock for a moment, dropping one of her blades to bring a hand up to the cut. I could see her shoulders rising and falling rapidly as she took in what just happened.

“The Horde is nothing!” she exclaimed, breathing heavily before realizing what she had just said. The flag bearer beside her slowly turned their head towards her, as if they had heard her wrong. Nathanos stood up straight.

“You are all,  _ nothing! _ ” Sylvanas screamed, doubling down on her outburst. Saurfang readied his blades once more. I held my breath as I prepared for him to end it. To end it all. All the pain, all the power Nathanos seemed to have because Sylvanas was Warchief...I was ready for it to end. Saurfang charged. Anduin grabbed my arm in anticipation.

“For Azero—,” he yelled. Sylvanas dropped her other blade, and extended her hands out towards the orc. That same black and purple smoke shot out of her, connecting directly to Saurfang’s chest and exploding into a cloud of darkness. The Durotar dust rose as the smoke cleared, and on the desert ground, Saurfang lay limply. I stepped backwards instinctively.

“If you could see yourselves how I see you...toy soldiers in tin plate. Beasts who howl for honor. Standing as one. Savor it. Nothing lasts.” Sylvanas’ voice carried across the stunned silence of the gates. She dissolved into a cloud of smoke, warping upwards into the sky. I looked once more to Nathanos. He watched her smoke rise, a surprised look just barely making itself known on his face. He looked at me, glared, and spit into the dust below, before he too transformed into smoke and was gone. 

Varok Saurfang was dead. Sylvanas Windrunner abandoned the Horde. The Banshee Queen and her champion were in the wind.

~~

We had stood quietly for a long while after Sylvanas and Nathanos disappeared. A young troll shaman had come and helped Thrall gather Saurfang’s body from the dirt. The city opened its gates, and Saurfang entered his home one final time. It was comforting to know that he was welcomed in as a brother, as a friend, rather than having to have forced his way inside as an enemy. It was a small consolation to recognize Saurfang had gotten his warrior’s death. 

Anduin had instructed the nearby Alliance commanders to get the troops home, back to Stormwind. When he was finished, I made us a portal and we stepped back into Stormwind Keep. The crestfallen look on my brother’s face made it clear enough to me that I shouldn’t badger him with questions. He walked back to his throne and slumped onto it, clearly worn out. I started to head back to my own room when he called out.

“Wait, Y/N. You didn’t tell me what happened.” I wondered why he was still concerned about my time away. What happened just recently was enough to change his history as King of Stormwind and of the Alliance forever. I shrugged off the thought. I wanted to keep it short and sweet, because I myself was tired and wanted to spare Anduin of any useless details.

“When we made it to the Underhold, we realized it had been a trap. Some mages mad at Jaina were there, and Nathanos showed up. We eventually took care of the mages, but Nathanos managed to get...leverage. I told him I would stay with him if he let the rest of the group go, which he did. But before he could do anything, I managed to port myself out to Orgrimmar, and then jumped through the portal system to Dalaran. I found the furthest portal from Dalaran that I could go, and ended up in Pandaria.” Anduin’s eyes lit up just slightly at this.

“I went to that tavern you had told me about, and met your friend Wrathion. He helped me...process through some things, and then I was so exhausted from it all that I slept for awhile. He took me back to the Keep once I had recovered, and then Shaw took me to meet you in Durotar. And that’s pretty much it,” I concluded, feeling a yawn coming on.

My brother felt the same. He stretched, which looked goofy in his giant armor. He sagged into the throne, looking even smaller in it than he usually did. I remembered how my father used to doze off sometimes sitting there, his head slipping off of a gloved hand, which would make him jerk awake. I would always giggle when that happened. My father would give me a cheeky smile, like he had planned it all along. 

Seeing Anduin in our father’s spot was still something I would always have to get used to. Not only because I missed my dad, but because all of the responsibilities and weights that he carried were now transferred to my brother, and they seemed so much heavier now that they rested upon Anduin. I hoped they would never have to rest on me. I don’t think my cloth-wearing shoulders could manage it.

Anduin’s chin slipped off of his hand, making him jolt awake, just how I remembered. I snorted, then started to head to my room again.

“Go to bed, Anduin. You’ll still be king in the morning,” I offered as I left the throne room. I heard his voice echo through the hall in response.

“Don’t remind me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the video where some of the dialogue for this chapter originated from!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NRLuUnpGYg


	17. The Storm Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the video where some of the dialogue in this chapter originates from.   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zenp66w8i7c

I sat in the courtyard, looking out into the northwestern part of the city. I could see the Earthshrine in the far distance, the portals to various Earthen Ring camps shimmering lightly. I thought of Thrall, of how he looked when he and that younger troll hoisted up Saurfang’s body and took him into Orgrimmar. Anduin had wanted to help, but I had stopped him then. I knew it was in his nature, but it just felt like something the Horde should have the right to. They had just lost who I thought of as their true Warchief...and as much as Anduin called for peace between our factions, it was time to let them have a chance to lay to rest one of their own. 

We had returned home shortly after the events at the gate, and my brother had been understandably quiet. Three days later, I had barely spoken a word to him. I figured it was smart to let him process things on his own, just as the Horde was. Besides, I didn’t have any words to say to him, anything to make the loss of Saurfang not sting as much as it must have.

I heard steps pad onto the soft grass behind me, and Anduin took a seat next to me on the bench. Low thunder rolled over the mountains, and I noticed thick storm clouds blowing in from the north. 

“Another storm is coming, it looks like,” he said simply, and the two of us just watched the clouds for a moment. I nodded, realizing that it had been stormy the past few days. I turned to my brother, watching him peer up the sky. I could see the dark clouds reflected in his bright blue eyes. They made his eyes look a deeper blue, just like our father’s. 

“How are you doing, Anduin?” He didn’t answer me for a long while. It was not until the storm clouds began to loom over the city that he spoke.

“I have a lot to think about, Y/N. Everything that’s happened in the past months, everything with the Fourth War, your capture...it all feels different than anything I’ve lived before. I can’t help but feel like everything is changing around me. I keep thinking that everything will settle down soon, but deep down, I can feel that the war was only the beginning. Sometimes I wish it would all just pause, for one second. What am I supposed to do when I know I can’t make it all stop?”

I watched his brow furrow as he spoke, understanding all of this to be the things he couldn’t quite put into words in the days earlier. The clouds were now fully over the northern section of the city. I thought I felt a few drops of rain sprinkle down. I knew Anduin’s question wasn’t in anticipation of a response, but I felt like I needed to say something anyway. I thought of my father once more.

“Do you remember when you came home from Pandaria? With your limp?” I asked, and Anduin finally turned to look at me. He nodded.

“I know we’re not as young as we were then, but how it felt back then I think is similar to how we feel now. Strange new lands, new responsibilities, and new pains. Do you remember what our father said when we were all back home again?” Anduin glanced down at his feet, his ponytail bouncing slightly.

“‘We don’t choose how time passes, but we decide what to do with it,’” he recited, bringing his head up once more.

“So...I know we can’t make time freeze, as much as the Bronze dragonflight would disagree,” I joked, earning a tired smile from my brother, “but that doesn’t mean we’re helpless. In all honesty, Anduin...I don’t think making time stop would do anything for us. We’d still be sitting in the same issues, the same pain. But when we keep  _ going _ , when we keep moving forward, there’s always hope to look forward to. Look at the storm above us. If we paused everything just for the sake of a rest, the clouds would still hang over us. But if we just press forward, even though the rain will fall, we know that there’s some sun waiting to come out.”

Anduin nodded, looking me in the eye as he considered what I said. 

“I only hope that when the sun comes out, I still recognize something around me. I hope there’s still a home to come back to,” he admitted.

“I think we’ll be just fine. I’m choosing to believe that the sun is just around the corner. And that our home will always be there when we need it.” I gave a small smile to my brother. 

“When did my little sister learn all this wisdom?” he joked, lightly shoving me by the shoulder.

“I’ve lived a little bit lately, Anduin,” I smiled back. A huge crack of what I thought was thunder sounded in the sky, making the two of us jump. We both looked up, and I noticed a strange orange tint seemed to cover the sky behind the clouds. I thought I was seeing things when small shards of the sky seemed to be floating away from the rest of it. Anduin chuckled.

“Even the sky is changing now, it seems. Wonder what it’ll be next.”

“Maybe your hair? You could use a cut. Maybe a color even, get rid of that stupid perfect blond,” I retorted, ruffling his hair. He flinched away, smoothing it back down with a playfully annoyed look.

“You’re just jeal—,” Anduin started to respond, when he was interrupted by a call from within the throne room. We both turned to see Genn standing there, a determined look on his face.

“Sylvanas has made her move,” he called, and when I looked back at Anduin, I knew he was back in King mode. He immediately rose from the bench, and I followed into the throne room. The rain started to come down as we left the courtyard. The sounds of it pouring surrounded us as we gathered in the Keep. Genn’s information must have been important, as I noticed several portals pop up and the various Alliance leaders stepped through. The Council of Three Hammers filed out from Ironforge. Tyrande and Malfurion Stormrage came from what looked to be Nordrassil. I observed the night elf priestess as she got her bearings, seeing a harsh look of anger etched on her face. Her pitch black eyes found my own, and we both gave each other a single nod in greeting. A death gate opened, and Darion Mograine stepped through. Genn spoke up quickly.

“Thank you for gathering quickly. I’m afraid the Ebon Blade has some dire news.” He beckoned towards Mograine.

“Moments ago, Sylvanas Windrunner assaulted Bolvar Fordragon on the Frozen Throne. She overcame him, taking the Helm of Domination. Rather than claiming the power for her own, the Banshee split the helm in half, shattering the sky and the veil between the realm of the living and dead. It is not known where she disappeared to, but her champion Nathanos Blightcaller has been spotted at the Marris Stead in Eastern Plaguelands.”

I straightened up slightly at the mention of Nathanos, and felt my brother’s eyes on me without even looking at him.

“Bolvar has spoken of a way to track Sylvanas from the magic she used to destroy the helm, but it may take some time. I apologize for going ahead of you, Anduin,” Genn explained, “but I’ve already ordered some of our champions to go take care of the Blightcaller. They’ve been instructed to extract any information on Sylvanas’ location.” 

Anduin nodded, his face set in the same concerned look I’d seen for several months now. 

“While the champions face Nathanos, I would recommend remaining in your home cities. The opening of the Shadowlands...I do not believe it is time to roam about. I can feel the realm of death even closer to us now,” Darion explained, his deathly voice echoing in the Keep.

“I will not stand idle while the Banshee roams free. Her deeds remain unpunished,” Tyrande boomed, shooting a look to Anduin, “and the Blightcaller will have answers. I will make my way to Marris Stead.” She started to head out of the Keep.

“Priestess, it is not safe to—” Darion started.

“I will not be lectured on what is and is not safe. Elune’s fury is upon me. It is Sylvanas and her champion that are in danger.” Without another word, she was down the steps and disappeared from Stormwind. Her husband commanded attention back to those still in the room.

“I apologize for the brashness of my love, but I will not attempt to stop her. Our people cry out for justice, and we will not deny it to them. No matter who stands in our way,” Malfurion explained. He bowed low to Anduin and I, then jumped the portal back to Nordrassil. The room was silent for a moment.

“The rest of you should return to your homes. I will send my knights of the Ebon Blade to seek you out once we have more information regarding Sylvanas’ disappearance, and once the ritual is complete. Prepare yourselves. Although she is out of sight, Sylvanas Windrunner should never be far from your minds. And she will come for all of us, all who have stood in her way.” 

The Council of Three Hammers said their goodbyes and returned to the fortress of Ironforge. Genn went towards the courtyard, seemingly finding solace in the pouring rain. I wondered if it reminded him of home. Anduin went and sat on his throne, leaving me standing with Darion in the middle of the room. He waved a hand and started walking down the steps of the Keep. I gave a questioning glance to Anduin, who encouraged me to follow the death knight. I turned and caught up with Darion. 

“Princess Y/N, is it?” he asked as we made it into the street. I pulled my hood over my head as I felt the rain fall. 

“Yes, but you can just call me Y/N. You can leave the titles for my brother,” I said lightly. He hummed quietly in response. We started towards Old Town, sticking to the covers of the stone walls as much as we could.

“We may not be familiar with each other, but I think it necessary to recognize how connected we have become. I came to Stormwind to warn of Sylvanas’ actions, but I have been meaning to be in contact with you for some time.” Connected to the Ebon Blade? To death knights? I had a hint of a reason why, but I didn’t want it to be true. I waited silently for him to continue.

“The Ebon Blade is one with death. Because of this, we are aware of all who have either died and been raised again, or walk with some sort of death within them. We can sense when large necromantic powers are used as well, similar to how we knew in Acherus that Sylvanas had shattered the Helm of Domination, even before Bolvar returned. About a month ago, we sensed a similar burst. I had a vision of you when it occurred.

“I understand that this may be difficult to grasp or come to terms with, but I will attempt to put it plainly. When you were held in captivity, Nathanos Blightcaller affected you with a touch of death, only common to that of the Shadowlands. Although you are no longer in danger, that touch remains within you. I can sense it now, even. And why you may feel physically healthy, that death in a living mortal is dangerous.”

Death within me. I didn’t have to think hard to understand exactly what Darion was referring to. The whispers, the dark power that I was able to harness in Nazmir... _ that _ was death within me. That was what Nathanos had been able to control within me.

“Is there any way to just get rid of it? Like to take it out of me?”

“It appears not. Death is not quite reversible.”  
“I...I’m not sure I completely understand. Am I dead somehow?”  
“Physically, no. But within you lingers a power of the Shadowlands, and the Ebon Blade believes it to be an essence of the Maw itself. Because you remain living in this realm, you do not have full power over the death within you.”

We cut through Old Town, jogging towards the cover of the flight master’s roost near the edge of Trade District. I let myself gather my thoughts and questions as we warmed up. Darion led me towards the gryphons, where one was saddled and prepped. Confusion brewed in my mind. I felt myself getting defensive as well at the thought of not having full control over myself.

“My powers are my own, Darion. I haven’t had any incidents since I escaped Nathanos.”  
“And you’re quite lucky that neither he nor Sylvanas have attempted to bring you back to themselves. It is honestly a miracle they haven’t used you as a pawn yet.”

I shuddered slightly at the memory of Nazmir, of Nathanos twisting my mind and powers to serve his purpose.   
“I know it is scary that you are not in full control. When Arthas was the Lich King, my Ebon Blade knights and I wrestled with the same fear. It can become paralyzing. But unique to your situation, you have the opportunity to take some of the control back. You cannot remove the death within you, but you can protect yourself from those capable of taking advantage of you.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

“You mentioned earlier to leave the titles for your brother, and although I understood it to be a joke, the coming situations will require you to become a leader for your people. Death itself comes for Azeroth, and you need to be prepared to defend not only your people, but yourself.”

He was starting to sound like Wrathion. Both vague and inspiring at the same time, I still didn’t have a solid answer to my question.

“Did we walk through the rain for you to tell me to step up to the plate?” I asked sarcastically.

“I walked you here to instruct you on your next steps. This gryphon will take you to the Marris Stead. While Nathanos Blightcaller still lives, he has the ability to turn the death inside of you against you. You must defeat him in order to have more claim over it.”

“ _ More _ claim? Will I never have full power over myself?”

“I’m afraid that is a question I cannot answer yet. We believe the situation to be similar to Arthas’ hold over the death knights. When we defeated him at Light’s Hope Chapel, we gained our free will, even more so after his fall in Icecrown. I believe the Shadowlands will offer more clarity on your position once the path has opened. But while we wait, you have a job to do.”

I looked at the gryphon. It stretched its giant wings and snapped its beak, ready to get out into the sky. My next thought went to Anduin.

“What will my brother say about this?”

“He may be king, but he does not have the authority over death as the Ebon Blade does. I trust you will return by nightfall. He will understand once your task is complete, Y/N.”

I exhaled heavily, trying to get my mind to wrap around everything I had just been presented with. I patted my belt, looking for my spellblade. Darion wordlessly handed me a small dagger, adorned with tiny red, purple, and blue skulls. 

“This is both your final step and your first one. You will be set free from the Blightcaller’s grasp, but everything that follows will force you to learn how to grasp that power for yourself. It is not enough to keep that death inside you. The fate of Azeroth will require the same of you that it does of the Ebon Blade: we will have to use what we’ve been given to save the soul of this world. Are you prepared?”  
The answer was generally always no. I looked for a long moment at the blade before me before I stared Darion in his icy blue eyes and nodded, taking the weapon in hand. The dagger seemed to hum in my grasp, as if it were attuning itself to me. I climbed onto the gryphon, making sure my hood was secure around my face for the flight to the Plaguelands.

“Remember what you are fighting him for. Earn your freedom. See it through to the bitter end!” he called out as I steered my beast towards the opening in the stone walls, and flew off into the storm.

~~

By the time I reached the orange tinted fields of the Eastern Plaguelands, the sun was beginning to fall behind the clouds that followed me all the way north. The rain had stopped, but I could feel all of the moisture still hanging in the air. My gryphon seemed to know exactly where to fly, which was good, because I had only heard of this place in stories. The now wet terrain seemed to make the lingering stench of undeath even stronger, and I grimaced thinking of how many people died in this place. I flew over several decrepit towns and homesteads, each of them darkened ruins of what I imagined used to be a lively place to settle down. After all, I remembered how prominent the kingdom of Lordaeron had been in the old Alliance. It was a sobering thought, realizing that death had taken this place so easily, and that its wrath still hung over it to this day.

I heard the sounds of battle before I could make anything out. I had passed over a large Argent Crusade tower a few minutes earlier, then heard the fighting. The rest of the Plaguelands had been relatively silent, so I knew I was in the right place. In the distance, I saw yet another ruined house and barn, this one with people actually occupying the land. As I got closer, I saw fighting, and I steered my gryphon to a large patch of grey trees on the edge of the homestead’s hill. 

My feet squished onto the damp grass as I dismounted, and I made sure my hood was still low over my face. I unsheathed my new dagger to check it was set to use, and felt the familiar hum of magic as I held it. I holstered it, then ducked behind the trunk of a nearby tree as I looked towards the ruins. I was about 20 yards away from the others, and just crouched to get a grasp of what was happening. There were about fifteen Horde and Alliance adventurers grouped up onto who I could assume was Nathanos. There were several more strewn onto the grass around the home, not moving. I wondered how long this had been going on. No sign of Tyrande, however, A loud chuckle cut across the silence of the land, and arrows began to rain down on top of the champions. The volley critically hit at least half of the remaining fighters, and now I could clearly see Nathanos through the thinning crowd. He was nocking arrow after arrow, a cruel smile on his face as each met their mark exactly. He clearly didn’t even have to think about it, as I could hear him make different snide comments to his attackers with every shot. He had been doing this for his entire life and undeath. It would be important to keep that in mind as I planned to face him. 

Nathanos seemed to have run out of arrows when he made it down to the last two assailants, which allowed for one of them, an orc, to get close enough to jab a sword towards him. He stepped to the side lazily, and I watched him roll his eyes as he picked up two large axes from the ground, slicing through the orc before they could recover. All that remained was a single human, but before he could even lunge at Nathanos, the Dark Ranger blasted him with the same power Sylvanas had murdered Saurfang with. I didn’t even see a body fall to the ground.

Nathanos sighed, and looked at the blood on the edge of his axes in disgust. He peered around at the bodies that now covered his rotten front yard, before turning towards the house. I stepped out from behind the tree. Even though I knew I didn’t make a sound, Nathanos stopped in his tracks. He turned his head just slightly over his shoulder, but it was enough for me to see the smirk spreading across his face.

“I wondered when you would come,” he said as he turned fully towards me. I walked forward cautiously, keeping my eyes locked on his, before stopping about 10 yards away from him. I unsheathed my dagger as calmly as I could. Nathanos raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“What are you here for, hmm? Seeking retribution for all the bad, bad things I’ve done? How frightfully predictable.” He began to circle me, just like he always did, but this time I didn’t stand afraid and still. I turned my body as he moved, the two of us still locked together with heated glares. I warmed my hands with fire, and glanced down for a brief moment to see the fire had spread to my blade. I looked back up to Nathanos.

“You are as bold as ever to face me alone, Wrynn. Even while I still own you, you seek to defy me. Some things never change, do they, princess?” 

“You no longer control me, Nathanos.”

“Don’t I?” He dropped his axes into the grass in an instant, extending a hand towards me. I felt the darkness within me surge, I felt the familiar power from Nazmir, but heard no whispers. Nothing was influencing me. I channeled the power down into a fireblast, hitting Nathanos directly in the chest. He stumbled backwards, more in surprise than pain. His grin had quickly turned into a glower.

“I told you, didn’t I? You don’t scare me anymore! You have no power over my mind! I’ve learned from the past. I won’t let you hurt me anymore.”

“Oh, how precious. Have you been practicing that in the mirror? Maybe reciting it to yourself each night before you sleep? It’s a shame, quite honestly, princess. I know I still greet you in your dreams. Did you really think reliving  _ memories _ would free you from me?” Nathanos opened both hands towards me now, and this time the magic was fighting against me. I keeled over in pain. The whispers returned, but this time, they were...different.

_ Fight back. We can resist him. He is powerless alone. _

The whispers were on my side. The power was mine. I gritted my teeth and told myself to stand up. I couldn’t let him win again. I had to see this through.

I lifted my head, drawing upon the dark magic within me, letting myself become consumed by it. I felt my veins surge with it, even as it burned within me. With a groan, I opened my free hand back towards Nathanos, just like I would release an arcane spell. Out of it shot that familiar black and purple energy, and I caught a glimpse of Nathanos’ red eyes widening before he was knocked, this time, off his feet. 

He scrambled to his feet, his normally slick hair now mussed from the impact of the damp ground. I wanted to smirk. 

“ _ Impossible _ ,” he snarled, rearming himself with the axes. I gripped the hilt of my dagger tightly. 

“Let’s finish this, Nathanos. Sylvanas has abandoned the Horde, and has abandoned  _ you _ . It’s time to end this,” I commanded as we continued to stare each other down. He chuckled darkly at this, a sort of wild look coming to his eyes.

“ _ Yes! _ ” he yelled, “let’s finish it. I’ve been waiting a long time to finally end your worthless life!”

I charged, drawing my blade and ducking low to attack him. He swung with one axe, just missing my head as I got down, jabbing my dagger into a gap in his armor. I removed the knife from his gut and rolled, feeling the wind of his axe brushing behind my back. I turned around quickly, seeing him already charging towards me, a murderous look in his eye. 

I shifted my weight to my back foot, just a second too late as I felt the edge of his blade slice me in the arm, slicing my armor open. The moisture in the air immediately clung to my skin. I shouldn’t have looked down at the wound.

Nathanos brought the hilt of one of his axes down into the side of my head, knocking me to the ground and making me drop my dagger as I tried to blink through the stun. I saw a glimpse of it in the grass to my side, and turned to crawl towards it. Even after one hit, the world started to spin slightly around me. I reached out to grab the hilt, my fingers outstretched as far as they could be as I laid on my stomach. 

The wind got knocked out of me as I felt Nathanos full weight drop onto my back, and I hit my head on the mushy grass. I could feel him sitting on the backs of my thighs, and was wrenched up by the hair. I felt his hot breath in my ear. I hated that it was a familiar feeling. I heard the metal scrape of a knife being unsheathed from behind me, and in the next moment Nathanos twirled a tiny knife in front of my face, showing it off. 

“Defiant to the very end, are we? Well, then, if you will not serve in life, then you will be a slave in death,” he whispered, and held the cold blade directly against my throat as he pulled my head tautly backwards. I could feel my skin breaking, and glanced up to the sky to watch the stars as I prepared for the knife to slide sideways. My whole body tensed in fear. In an instant, I saw the moon eclipse above me, darkening the entire sky before Nathanos moved the knife. 

Rather than a cleat cut across my neck, all I felt was a small nick on the side as Nathanos’ weight came off of me suddenly, and his grip on my hair was gone with a grunt. I heard something slam into wood several yards behind me, and turned over onto my elbows to look. I saw Nathanos, stuck to the side of his house with a fledgling sticking out of his shoulder. He was staring straight ahead, and I got to my feet as he broke the arrow and slid off of the wall, rolling his shoulder in pain, but chuckling all the while he got back to his feet. 

Opposite of him, Tyrande walked out of the cover of the trees. She was in no hurry, her dark eyes trained in a cool glare directly at Nathanos. She readied two warglaives as the Dark Ranger picked up a stray sword from the fallen adventurers nearby. I grabbed my discarded dagger from the grass before taking a place on Tyrande’s side. She didn’t say a word to me, nor offer a glance in my direction. It didn’t matter to me. We were here for the same thing.

Nathanos charged directly at Tyrande, who didn’t even flinch as he raised the sword and attacked. She easily parried with one glaive, swiping with the other, forcing Nathanos to step backwards. I snuck behind, readying myself to use Nathanos’ power against him. He swung the sword towards me as I moved, but was forced to turn his attention back to Tyrande as she lunged at him. She began an insanely fast assault, swinging her glaives faster than I could even see them coming. Nathanos managed to block each swing, but not for long. I stood behind him now, and breathed deeply.

_ He is powerless alone _ . I sheathed my dagger, and let the darkness fill my hands. I thought of Dazar’alor, of the prison below, of the shrine room. Images of Nazmir filled my head, of Telaamon. I remembered Stormsong Valley, how it felt to have the darkness invade me, the first taste of that immense power. I thought of the Underhold, I remembered Peake, I remembered Brady, and felt the darkness feed off of my painful memories. Wrathion may have helped me with the fear from my past, but my power was building off of my pain. I imagined two strong chains, just like those that had held me beneath Orgrimmar, and pictured them wrapping around Nathanos’ wrists. I extended my hands towards him, watched as black and purple smoke shot out in two small beams towards Nathanos, and felt my magic latch around his hands. The energy audibly clinked, and I knew it had locked onto him. He turned his head just slightly before I yanked backwards with all of my might.

Nathanos dropped the sword as his hands became bound behind him, just as Tyrande swiped one of her glaives low across his stomach. I heard him grunt in pain once more as he fell to his knees. Tyrande held his chin up with the blade of her weapon, forcing him to look up at her. I kept a tight hold on the chains as she shot me an approving nod. Nathanos coughed.

“Your power has grown,” he drawled, his voice becoming breathy. Tyrande pressed the blade upwards, forcing Nathanos’ chin up as well.

“Where is she?” the night elf asked, not even looking at him.

“She is with  _ him _ of course. In the darkest place.” His breathing was labored. It would not be long now.

“Along with every soul burned to ash in your precious tree,” Nathanos added, and I pulled back harder on the chains.

“Where is she?” Tyrande repeated, this time looking down to Nathanos with a growl. The Dark Ranger simply chuckled.

“Do me a favor, would you? Let the whelp kill me. I want to see her face when she murders me.” 

The chains loosened ever so slightly in my hands at this. Tyrande glanced at me, tilting her head in question. She was offering him to me. I extinguished the chains, Tyrande’s glaives still holding Nathanos on his knees. I took out my knife once again and drew in a deep breath, before walking to be beside Tyrande. 

I looked down into those crimson eyes once more, and felt the darkness surge within me. Even as he bled out, Nathanos kept a smirk on his face. It was time to finish this, for real.

“Go on, kill me. You’ll send me right to my Lady, Wrynn. Beyond the veil she shattered,” he gushed, before adding, “Oh, Y/N. Princess of Stormwind. The  _ other _ Wrynn. I can still smell your fear. I made the most of you, didn’t I? I gave you this power, and I made you _ obey _ . Even in death, I will be with you. Kill me, and notice how even my death will not bring you peac—,”

I made my decision. As Nathanos monologued, which would be his last words, I realized I didn’t need to be the one to physically end his life. He didn’t deserve that luxury from me. He didn’t get to enjoy watching me kill him. I had to remind him that we were different from each other. I didn’t get pleasure from ending someone’s life, no matter who was at the end of my blade. Even with everything he changed in my life, all the pain he brought...he would die at the hands of the woman who deserved the piece of justice that the end of his life would bring. 

“Tyrande, he is yours. I don’t want his blood defiling my blade.” Nathanos’ eyes widened, and I looked to Tyrande. We nodded once at each other, and I put my knife away. 

“Weak! Always the weak one, Y/N. You broke  _ so _ easily under me, princess. And you will break again under h—,”

Blood lightly sprayed across my face as Tyrande pulled her glaive across Nathanos’ throat, a sickening squelch sounding in the Plaguelands silent night. It was cold on my skin, even as I felt the dark magic surge within me. His body slumped into the grass, his crimson eyes still staring as dark blood flowed out of his open wounds and seeped into the ground. I wiped my cheek with my sleeve, taking a moment to look at the stain. Nathanos Blightcaller was dead. 

_ My power is my own _ . The whispers spoke as one now, all in what I knew was my voice. 

Tyrande wiped her glaive into the grass, cleaning off the blood from the blade. We were both silent as I looked at Nathanos’ body, and as I felt her looking at me. 

“You are unlike your brother.” It was a simple statement, but it was one of the only things the priestess had ever directed specifically at me. I returned her glance, nodding as I spoke.

“So I’ve been told,” I answered.

“You carry a very different power within you, child. Do you know how to wield it wisely?”

“I believe I’m getting the hang of it. And, I mean no disrespect, but I believe I could ask the same of you, Tyrande.” I took a chance with that last comment, hoping she wouldn’t take my reference to the Night Warrior as an insult. Luckily, she quirked her head slightly and just barely lifted the corner of her mouth. I took it as a smile, as much of one as the night elf could give me.

“It is good to know there is at least one Wrynn who has taken after your father.” She began walking back towards the trees. I glanced once more at Nathanos’ limp body, committing the image of his death to memory, before turning and catching up with Tyrande.

“What will you do now?” I asked as we made it back to our mounts hidden in the woods.

“While the Banshee lives, my people do not have peace. Nor do I. I will take every action necessary to enact justice. And you?”

I considered this for a moment. Nathanos was dead. That was the only task I really had on my mind. I shrugged as I climbed back onto the gryphon.

“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll find out once I make it home.” Tyrande nodded as she climbed onto her own hippogryph.

“Be on alert, Princess. This is no time for peaceful reunions and celebrations. The Fourth War may be over, but millions of souls cry out for revenge against the instigators of it. Just because you earned your justice does not mean the task is complete. There is no peace until we all know the feeling.” I only nodded in response, realizing the high priestess was right. My work wasn’t done, even though Nathanos had been defeated. The rain had fallen, but the storm remained. The sun was not out quite yet.

“Elune be with you, Y/N.” Tyrande smacked the reins on her mount and flew off into the night. I sat a moment on my gryphon, taking in the silence of the land. No dark chuckle ghosted through my ears. No crimson eyes peered at me through the trees. I guided the beast into the air, back towards Stormwind, not even looking down to see Nathanos’ body laying in the ruins of his ancestral home. I had work to do. It was time to get home.


End file.
